


The Strangers and Other Friends Affair

by alynwa



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: Napoleon and Illya go undercover to thwart THRUSH's latest plot for world domination.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Predators and Prey," though one does not necessarily have to read that to understand this tale. That story is also on this website.

Illya had had a very productive day in the labs.  He had finally overcome a problem that had been preventing him from successfully installing a tiny camera into an eyeglass frame and he was feeling rather proud of himself as he stepped into the elevator on his way to his office.  _Technology is advancing by leaps and bounds!_ , he was thinking as he leaned against the back wall.  _UNCLE’s main computer used to take up an entire room and now, it only takes up_ half _that space!_

The door to his office slid open to reveal Napoleon at his desk, pencil stuck behind one ear and head in hand, seemingly lost in thought.  “Hello, Napoleon!” he began to say, “I solved the ‘clicking noise’ problem!  The camera is silent now!  My prototype…”  He ground to a halt when he saw the CEA wasn’t really listening.  “Is something wrong, Napoleon?”

“Huh?  Oh.  No, not really.  It just occurred to me that today is August 28th.”

“Yes, it is.  So?”

“Two years ago today, I hugged and kissed Angelique goodbye at the Mandarin Hotel.*”

Illya rolled his eyes as he sat at his desk.  “I know; I was there.  And?”

“And…I _miss_ her.  She hasn’t surfaced anywhere.  THRUSH apparently still thinks she’s dead.  I was certain she would turn up as a freelancer and that hasn’t happened.  She’s just… _gone._ ”

“Having just heard the obvious ravings of a lunatic, I have to say that I am even _more_ grateful that viper slithered out of your life.  I for one do _not_ miss her.  I was certain that I was going to have to kill her one day to avenge your death.  I would not have minded that, but I _would_ have minded breaking in a new partner after ten years in the field together.”

“I know you disliked her, Tovarisch; understandably so, but there was something about her, something vulnerable.  In many ways, she was like a little girl playing Grown – up.  Sometimes, when we were together, and all the makeup was off her face, I got a glimpse of that girl.  It was _that_ girl that I slept with; the Angelique _you_ knew would show up in the morning after a shower and some time at the vanity.”   

The Russian opened his mouth to argue, but then thought, _What is the point?_  Instead he said, “Fine, Napoleon.  I concede that you knew her better than I.”

The CEA’s eyes widened slightly.  “You’re not going to denigrate her?  Hmph, it _must_ be a full moon.”  His phone rang before he could say more.  “Solo.  Hello, Lisa.  Yes, he just walked in; we’re on our way.”  He hung up, stood and began to unroll his shirt sleeves.  “The Old Man wants to see us,” he said as he put on his jacket and shot his cuffs.

Illya picked up his suit jacket from the hook it hung on and slipped into it.  “Then let us not keep him waiting.”

Ten minutes later found both men in their usual seats across from Mr. Waverly.  He had watched them enter, unlit pipe clenched between his teeth and began speaking without preamble as soon as they were settled.  “Gentlemen, apparently THRUSH is once again pursuing some cockamamie scheme to take over a sovereign government.  This time it’s the United States.”  He held his hand up to forestall questions.  “Section IV intercepted several communiques between THRUSH Central and someone in Louisiana going by the name…”  He glanced at the file in front of him.  “Francois Hebert.  Yes, that’s it.  While it was clear from the missives that he had received a rather large amount of money from the Central Committee during the course of the last year, it was not clear what the money is financing.  There were also some phrases during a telephone call that we can’t decipher.”

Napoleon’s brow furrowed.  “Phrases, Sir?”

“Yes.  This Hebert fellow apparently is Cajun and used slang that stumped our translators who explained that Cajun French is quite different than what one would hear in Paris or, for that matter, Port au Prince.” 

“So, you want Ill…Mr. Kuryakin and me to go to Louisiana to find out what’s happening and shut it down, whatever it is?”

“Half – right, Mr. Solo.  I want Mr. Kuryakin to head to the South to investigate Mr. Hebert and his project while you head to Europe to locate the source of the money THRUSH is sending him and stop it.”  He began to rotate the table’s Lazy Susan and stopped when the file reached the CEA.  “All the information we have is in that folder.  Both of you are booked on flights leaving JFK tomorrow evening.  Your itineraries are also in there as are the identities you will be assuming.  Standard reporting procedures, Gentlemen.  Good luck to you both.  Dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir,” the agents replied in unison as they stood.  Illya followed Napoleon out the door.  They nodded to Miss Rogers and strode silently to the elevator bank.

When they returned to their office Napoleon remarked, “It’s after six.  I suggest we pick up some dinner and go to my place to study this information.”

“Agreed.”

Less than two hours later, the men were sitting in Napoleon’s living room, bellies full of Italian takeout, reading and discussing the information the Old Man had given them.  “So,” Illya said as he removed his glasses, “I am to be British journalist Nigel Bellamy of The Daily Mail sent to Houma, Louisiana to research and write an article about alligator hunting.  The season starts the day after tomorrow.”  As he spoke, his accent became decidedly more upper class English.  “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Antonio Felice of the Palermo Felices, a wealthy family who made their money during World War II, supposedly by selling secrets and arms to the highest bidder and stashing the money in Swiss bank accounts.”

The Russian looked up and frowned.  “How is it possible that this family was never tried for treason or had its wealth confiscated?”

“The Italian government, after the execution of Mussolini, had other, more pressing concerns than going after Luca Felice, my ‘grandfather.’  The speculation and the rumors were there, but there was never any hard evidence.  Now, the Felices are legit, Luca is deceased and my ‘cousins’ run the family olive oil business.  I am the womanizing, fashion – loving, hard – partying ‘black sheep’ of the family living off my considerable inheritance while I add to it by making shadowy investments that sometimes cross the line into illegality.”

Illya snorted, “Sounds like the perfect cover for you, my friend, but why that one, you think?”

“Intelligence has reason to believe that THRUSH is funneling money through a vineyard somewhere between San Remo and Ventimiglia.  The name Felice is well known in Northern Italy, but they are such a secretive lot that most people have never even seen a picture of any of them.  I live in Nice, France which is about forty – five minutes away by rail.  I’m to let it be known I’m looking for a new investment.  Hopefully, I’ll get a little birdie’s interest and sabotage THRUSH’s operation.”

The blond stretched out his arms and legs and arched his back mightily until he could feel bones cracking.  “Admittedly, you _do_ make a good scoundrel.  For once, we will need to keep in contact with each other; if you manage to disrupt the cash flow, I will need to know that as it might force Hebert to do something drastic.  And if I discover what Hebert is planning, we may need to coordinate if you have not located the money source.”

Napoleon stood and went to fix himself a drink.  “I don’t know if you know this or not, Tovarisch, but some of the best food in the country is made by Cajun cooks.  Don’t get so sidetracked with eating that you start to gain weight.  You won’t be able to outrun the ‘gators.”  He poured a shot of vodka and handed it to the Russian.  “You’re not the only one who doesn’t feel like breaking in a new partner.”

Illya downed the shot in one gulp and prepared to leave.  “Do not worry, Napoleon.  I will be as careful as I expect you to be.  Happy hunting, _moy droog._ ”  And with that, he strode down the hall and exited.

Napoleon followed to lock the door and reset the alarms.  _Happy hunting, indeed._

     

 *ref. “Predators and Prey”


	2. Chapter 2

Illya and Napoleon didn’t see each other after Illya left that night.  The next evening found the CEA on an Air France flight to Nice while the Russian was in another terminal catching an American Airlines flight to New Orleans.  Illya knew he would arrive in the Crescent City hours before his partner touched down in Europe.  Arrangements had been made for him to pick up a rental for the hour long drive to Houma.

The flight was uneventful and Illya was the last customer of the night for the sleepy agent manning the Hertz desk.  He received the keys to a brand new Ford station wagon along with a map on which the desk clerk happily outlined the way to Houma in red ink.  A short shuttle bus ride later, Illya was in his car on the way to his destination.

He was bopping his head to the New Orleans jazz station he had found when he first started the car.  By his estimate, he was about twenty minutes from the outskirts of Houma.  _I hope there is some place open for me to get something to eat,_ he thought when his stomach growled.  Less than a minute later, he hit something in the road that caused a blowout of his right front tire.

 _Chyort!,_ he cursed to himself as he fought to control the car and bring it to a halt on the shoulder.  When it had come to a stop, he assessed his situation.  _There are no lights of any kind, the shoulder is too soft to support a jack holding up a car and even if it could, it is too dark for me to see how to change a tire._ He got out of the car and debated whether or not to contact UNCLE New Orleans for assistance.

He had just pulled his communicator when he saw the reflection of lights heading in his direction.  He replaced the device in his pocket and quickly got his Walther from its holster and stuck it in the small of his back.  Moments later, a car came around the curve and slowed to a stop.  A woman who appeared to be in her late fifties early sixties stepped out and leaned against her vehicle.

“Hey! _Ca viens_?” she called.

Flummoxed, Illya replied, “I am sorry, Madam, I do not quite understand.  I have a flat tire and it is too dark to change it.”

The woman craned her neck to see for herself.  “Coo wee!  Yeah, you do, Boo!  Where you come from and whatcha doin’ round here?”

“My name is Nigel, Nigel Bellamy.  I work for a London newspaper and I’ve been sent to Houma to write about the upcoming alligator hunting season.”

“Well, you’re ‘bout fifteen twenty minutes away.  It ain’t safe to try to do anything wit’ that car tonight.  You got a place to stay in Houma?  I’ll drive you into town, if you like.”

“That would be wonderful, Madam.  I have a room reserved at the Houma Hospitality House.” 

“ _Co Faire_?  That place is a dump!  _Cher,_ listen to me.  My name is Josephine LeDeux.  I own a small rooming house and restaurant just on the edge of town.  I have the best chef in Houma working there.  I got one room left, the other three I just rented to three gator hunters.  That should help your story writing.  _Ca c’est bon!_ Come get in my car.  Let’s go!”

Illya grabbed his suitcase out of the back of the station wagon and slid it into the rear seat of Josephine’s car.  He ran around to hold her car door open for her and then went back to enter the passenger side.  He slammed the door shut and said, “I appreciate your help, Josephine, but I cannot impose.  I will be coming and going at all hours to interview the hunters and take pictures.”

“It ain’t a bother!  I rent to gator hunters every season; Houma Hospitality don’t cater to them.  You pay me fifty dollars a week, just like the hunters, and that includes breakfast.  If you’re around for dinner, that’s extra.  If you don’t like it, you can always go to the Hospitality House.  What do you say, _Cher_?”

Illya did some quick calculations and realized that, on the surface, this woman was offering a better deal.  _Accounting will be happy about that.  And it sounds like she is familiar with the area; that could prove useful._ “Thank you, Miss Josephine,” he said, remembering Southerners regarded that as respectful and mannerly, “I accept your kind offer.”

As the woman pulled back onto the road she laughed, “Someone taught you manners!  I like that.  I like _you,_ Nigel.  Call me Joey, most everyone does.  And when we get home, I’m going to get you something from the kitchen.  Skinny as you are, you need to eat.  We’ll get there either right after closing or right before.  Don’t matter, I’m the boss!”  She giggled some more at her own joke.

Illya found her easy to talk to and was actually enjoying her company.  She knew all about the regular hunters in the area and dropped a pearl of knowledge on him by mentioning that Francois Hebert was one of several buyers of alligator carcasses.  He was also surprised to learn that Joey owned an alligator farm that abutted her boarding house/restaurant.  When they pulled into a driveway, he noted that there was one spotlight that illuminated the front of the building.  The front yard wasn’t painted to be a parking lot, but he saw that a few cars were parked in a somewhat orderly fashion and Joey parked in alignment with what was already there.

She waited for him to retrieve his suitcase from the car, unlocked the door and then led the way into the closed restaurant.  It was small, but inviting.  Wooden tables, chairs, walls and floor with a fireplace in the corner, unlit but there, greeted them both.  The Russian liked it immediately.

“Al!  What’s left in the kitchen?” she yelled as she dropped her purse on a chair.  She looked at the blond.  “Al is my chef,” she said by way of explanation.

A voice floated out from behind swinging doors.  “I got some boudin and some crawfish bisque!  Your daughter will bring it out for you.”

“Have her bring two servings of each!” she called back.  She pointed to a table and sat when Illya held out a chair for her.  “ _Merci,_ Nigel.  Angel, my baby, is around your age.  Too bad you’re married,” she noted as she pointed her nose to his wedding ring.

Illya didn’t disabuse the woman of her assumption.  The smells coming out of the kitchen had captured his attention and he was really looking forward to eating.  Several minutes later, the door to the kitchen swung open to reveal the back of a woman holding a large tray.  She turned and revealed it held two plates with sausage and two steaming bowls of soup along with silverware and a pitcher of what he thought was iced tea.  He was so busy concentrating on the food, that he didn’t notice the waitress hesitate slightly.

“Angel, what you slowing down for, girl?  Come on, we’re hungry!”

The Russian glanced up at Joey’s daughter then and saw her eyes widen in recognition and then narrow into slits.  _Bozhe moy!  That is…_

“Nigel, Darlin’, let me introduce you to my beautiful baby girl, Angel LeDeux.  Angel, this is Nigel Bellamy.  He’s gonna be stayin’ here while he writes an article about gator hunting.  He’s a reporter for some English paper.”

Angelique had angled her body slightly so that her mother couldn’t quite see her face.  “Is that so?  Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bellamy.  I’d like to talk to you about England; I’d like to go there one day.”  She placed everything on the table and then leaned in to nuzzle her mother’s temple and plant a kiss.  “I missed you, Mama.  Were you able to get anything accomplished?”

“Not too much, Baby Girl.”  Joey looked at Illya and explained, “’Member I said I got a gator farm?”  When Illya nodded she said, “Something’s wrong with them; they’re getting really aggressive.”

“I thought alligators are naturally aggressive.”

“Well, yeah, to a certain point, the wild ones can be, especially during mating season.  My gators was born in captivity, most of ‘em and even though I wouldn’t _pet_ one, they’re kinda used to people.  Least, they used to be.  One of my guys who’s been feeding them for years barely got out of the pen alive because three gators went to attack him.  I ended up having them killed and selling them to Hebert.  That ain’t normal and I’ve been hearing tell of swamp gators grabbing livestock and pets.”

Angelique poured them each a glass of iced tea and said, “Oh, Mama, stop exaggerating.  Gators been snatching livestock and pets that got too close for years.”

“Not like this, Baby Girl.  I heard Alcide Lebeau saw a gator _chase_ his old coonhound for twenty yards before giving up; he said the dog wasn’t at the water’s edge, the gator come up on land to get him!”  She was about to say more, but a coughing spasm left her gasping for air for a few seconds.  She waved off Illya’s attempt to pat her on the back.

“That’s enough, Mama, you getting yourself all worked up over nothing.  Why don’t you finish eating and head off to bed?  I’ll take Mr. Bellamy to his room.”  When Joey nodded agreement Angelique added, “I’m going back in the kitchen to finish cleaning up.  Al left out the back way after he heated up your supper.  Call me when you’re finished, Mama, and I’ll come out to escort Mr. Bellamy.”

Joey hadn’t noticed, but Illya had been rocked to his core to see his former nemesis serving him his dinner.  He was beyond glad that his habit of sitting where he could see doorways had stood him in good stead as part of him fully expected Angelique to burst through the kitchen door with her gun blazing.  He returned his attention to his dinner companion.  “Your daughter is lovely, Joey.”

“ _Merci, Cher._ And she’s smart as a whip, too.  She’s went to school for years.  She’s got herself an advanced degree in chemical engineering.  I don’t even know what that is!  That’s why she talks so good.”

“Interesting.  I would think that someone with that much education would want to use it and live in a large city.”

Joey wiped her mouth with her hand and glanced toward the kitchen.  The sounds of running water and dishes being washed continued, so she leaned closer to Illya and said in a soft and sad voice, “That’s my fault.  Six months ago, Angel called to see how I was doin’ and I let it slip that there’s somethin’ wrong with my lungs.  She was here two days later draggin’ me to doctors all over N’Awlins.  She wanted to take me to New York City to some big fancy hospital up there, but when I said I ain’t goin’, she left.”

The Russian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “She did?  But she is here now?”

Illya saw the woman’s eyes tear up before she used her napkin to wipe them.  “My Angel’s a good girl.  She called me a couple of hours later to say she just had to close up her apartment and she would be back as soon as possible.  She was gone a week before she come back home.  I know Houma ain’t her cup of tea no more, but she ain’t never complained about being here.  She makes her Mama proud!” 

Just then Angelique emerged from the kitchen drying her hands on her jeans.  She looked at Illya and then said, “Mama?  _Vomment ca vas_?”

“I’m fine, Baby Girl, Nigel and I are havin’ a lovely talk.”

“Yes, Mama, I’m dying to talk to Nigel myself,” Angelique replied as she gathered up their plates and glasses.  “Just give me a minute to wash these and we’ll go upstairs together.”

Moments later she returned.  “All right, Mama, it’s past your bedtime and getting close to mine.  Let’s head up.”

 _“Allons.”_   Joey stood with the assistance of her daughter and arm in arm, they led the way out of the dining room and up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched left and right.  “Follow me to my mother’s room and then I’ll take you to yours.”  Illya walked behind the women with his suitcase observing how gently the younger woman acted toward her mother.  Stopping in front of a door, Angelique bent down and placed a kiss on Joey’s temple.  “Good night, Mama.”

“Good night, Joey,” Illya added, “Thank you again for your help on the road and your hospitality.”

“Good night, y’all.”

“Your room is down the opposite end,” Angelique said before turning and leading the way.  She reached in her pocket which prompted Illya to reach behind his back to pull his gun from his waistband.  “Calm down, you idiot!” she hissed, “I’m getting your room key!”  She unlocked the door and stepped through.  “Close the door behind you, ‘ _Nigel._ ’  You and I are going to have a little talk.”

The Russian closed the door and pulled a chair so that his back was against the wall facing the woman who had deliberately sat on his bed.  “I should have known you were involved with THRUSH again, _Angel._   What is Hebert’s scheme and what is your role in his plans?”

“ _Hebert?_ He is _THRUSH?_ ” she stood and went to the window and looked outside at the darkness.  “Mon Dieu.”  She turned around to face Illya.  “Is Napoleon here?”

“You are not seriously asking me?”  To his shock, she strode toward him, ignoring the gun he still held in his hand.

“If you know like I know, _Kuryakin_ , you won’t dare fire that weapon!  Even if you dart me, I’ll still be able to scream the house down before losing consciousness and what do you think will happen to you when everyone in this house, including my mother, is armed to the teeth?  You’d never make it out alive!  And just in case you thought you could escape out your bedroom window, take a look!  The gator farm is right below and like Mama said, they’re super aggressive right now!  So I’m asking you again, _nicely,_ is Napoleon here?”

The Russian weighed his options and decided on the truth.  “No, he is not here, but I will not tell where he is.”

“I do not _care_ where he is,” she hissed.  “When I left Boston two years ago, I left The Game.  I wanted him to come with me; he would not.  If you tell him I am here, he will make his way here and I do not want that.  Do you understand?  The _only_ reason I am here is because my mother will not leave.  She is dying and I will not leave her.  Mama knows nothing of THRUSH or UNCLE.  Francois Hebert is a man I have heard of, but never met.  If he is truly what you say he is, I will kill him if he crosses my path.  THRUSH thinks I’m dead and it must remain so.  I was well known in THRUSH.  I cannot take the chance of him seeing me and reporting that I am alive.  When you speak to Napoleon, and I know you will at some point, do not mention me.  If you do that for me, this is what I will do for you: I will not interfere.  Conduct your mission, maintain your cover, ruin THRUSH’s plans.  I don’t care.  Just keep Hebert away from here.  If he does come here, you better get what you need from him before I kill him.  Do you agree, Illya?”

The Russian searched her face and saw the truth of her statements.  He wasn’t ready to say he trusted her, but he believed at that moment that _she_ believed what she was saying.  “I will do my best to not let what I am doing find its way to this place.”

“Good.  One more thing, ‘Nigel.’  My mother named me Angel LeDeux; she has never heard of Angelique DeChien.  Keep it that way, _oui?_ ”

“Agreed.  I will say this, Angel… _Angel,_ that your mother seems to be a lovely woman.”

“Usually, but we’ve had our battles.  The peace we have now was hard fought.  It was not always so, but we have found our way back to each other.  Mama and I serve breakfast for the hunters at four – thirty so they can be on the swamp no later than six.  Be in the dining room then and Mama and I will introduce you and see if we can get one of them to let you tag along.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight, Nigel.”

“Goodnight, Angel.” 

 

 

 

Glossary:

Ca Viens?  What’s going on?

Coo wee!  Wow!

Boo: A term of endearment

Co faire?  Why?

Cher: A term of endearment

Boudin: a type of Cajun sausage

Vomment ca vas?  Are you all right?

Allons  Let’s go.  


	3. Chapter 3

Illya walked into the restaurant promptly at four – thirty.  He had heard the hunters moving around their rooms and heading downstairs and decided he would leave his room after them so as to make a bit of an entrance.  Sure enough, when he entered, the conversation lulled as they all looked at the stranger.

Joey, who had been pouring coffee, spoke up immediately.  “Good morning, Nigel!  Everybody, this here is Nigel Bellamy!  He’s a reporter all the way from England come to write a story on gator huntin’ season.  Nigel, that there is Johnny Guist, Toby Boudreax, and Tommy Buford.  He wants to go out with one of you today and see how it’s done.”

Illya smiled and said “hello” and was greeted in turn, but he was not surprised when no one volunteered to have him accompany them.  Just then, Angelique ( _Angel,_ he corrected himself) came out of the kitchen backwards balancing a large tray with platters full of food which she placed in the middle of the long table where the men sat.  “Nigel,” she said, “sit down this end, this seat’s free.”  As soon as he did, everyone started digging in and passing the food to the left. 

“Okay, boys,” Joey said as she filled cups, “There’s plenty of food, so eat up.  Anyone who wants sandwiches to take for lunch, lemme know now and I’ll get Al to makin’ ‘em.  Dollar fifty each.  Don’t ask what they are, you eat what I give you.  You know all my food is good.”

The men placed their orders and proceeded to eat.  Illya was pleased that the food was simple and delicious.  He saw that no one was trying to be dainty, so he allowed himself to eat to his heart’s content.  Eggs, grits, bacon, beignets, boudin, and a fried cornmeal dish called couche – couche that he really enjoyed.  _I wish I could eat like this on all my missions!_

Angel came out with biscuits and said, “Toby, didn’t I hear you say that your shooter sprained his ankle bad yesterday and you were stuck?  Did you get that straightened out?”

“No,” Toby replied, “I’m just gonna have to hunt by myself.  I’ve done it before.  No big deal.”

“Well, I was talking to Nigel last night and even though he’s never been gator hunting before, he told me he’s a crack shot at skeet shooting.  He might be the answer to your prayers.”

Toby turned around to stare at the Russian.  “Boy, you know how to shoot a moving target with a rifle?”

The Russian allowed himself to look slightly embarrassed.  “Yes, I think I can hold my own.”

“ _C’est bon._   I guess you gonna be part of your own story.”  Toby looked Illya up and down.  “What you’re wearing is okay, but pale as you are, you gonna need a hat and some sunscreen.  You got any?”

Illya shook his head no, but Joey spoke up.  “I got some ballcaps; you can borrow one and I think Angel has sunscreen.  Toby, after y’all go to the buyer, maybe you could take Nigel to the Army Navy store so he can buy what he needs.”

“Sure, Joey.  No problem.”

Just then, the phone in the hallway started to ring and Joey went to answer it.  A minute later, she called Tommy.  Moments later, they both returned and Tommy flopped into his chair and angrily took a slurp of his coffee.  “I should have known better than to hire that jackass!  I don’t care if he is my wife’s cousin!”

“What’s the matter, Tommy?”

“My shooter bailed on me and didn’t have the stones to face me.  He called my wife and told her he got a better offer!  Can you imagine!  Guess I’m gonna be huntin’ alone though I hate doin’ it.”

“Well, wait a minute now,” Joey said, “Maybe Angel might want to go out with you.  Ask her.  I can handle the house without her.”  She looked at Illya.  “And don’t worry ‘bout your car, Nigel.  I’ma send Buddy Lee from the garage to tow it in and fix that flat.”

“ _Merci, cher!_ ”  Raising his voice, Tommy called, “Angel?  Angel, commeer a minute, please?”

Angelique stuck her head out the kitchen door.  “ _Ca viens?_ ”

“My shooter bailed on me.  You wanna go huntin’?”

“I don’t mind helping out, if Mama doesn’t mind.”  When Joey shook her head, she said, “Sure, I’ll help you.  Come on, Nigel, I’ll get you a hat and some sunscreen to take with you.”

They headed upstairs quickly and went to Joey’s room first.  Angelique grabbed a blue cap and tossed it to Illya.  They then headed to her room where she handed him a tube of sunscreen.  “Better put some on now because you will be sweating it off on the bayou.”

As he applied it he asked, “You have been alligator hunting before?”

He was surprised when she actually laughed.  “I was born and raised in Cajun country!  My Mama and I used to go hunt gators together!  We are both good shots; let Toby show you where to shoot a gator to kill it and you’ll be fine.  Your biggest problem will be learning how to keep your balance in a pirogue, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly.  If not, you’ll just be gator food.”

“What’s a pirogue?”

“A Cajun canoe.  Oh, by the way, Toby takes his gators to Hebert.  Tommy takes his to Yves Rene, so I won’t see you until we get back here.  Use your time at the buyer’s well.”

Just then, Illya’s communicator chirped.  Angelique leaned back and watched as the blond assembled his communication device.  “Yes, Napoleon, have you arrived safely?”

“Affirmative, Partner Mine and I’ve already made some inroads.  I probably won’t be touching base with you for two days.  Is anything going on in Louisiana that I need to know?”

“Not really.  I’ve met a couple of locals who are familiar with the surroundings and Hebert.  Fortunately for me, I’m going out with a gator hunter this morning; he is waiting for me now.”

“Then I will let you go.  Good luck, Illya.”

“And you as well, Napoleon.  Goodbye.”

Angelique watched him disassemble his communicator.  “Thank you for honoring my wishes.  I will not interfere with you.” 

“Thank you.”

They went downstairs and headed off with their respective partners to their assigned hunting grounds.  Illya spent the morning hours with Toby placing hooks baited with rotten chicken legs doused with beef blood all over their hunting area.  Each line was marked with a blue bandanna.  He was glad for the cap keeping the sun off his head as the humidity and rising temperature were making him sweat profusely. 

Finally, they set the last line and were on their way back to where they started.  Illya had listened to what Toby had been telling him and knew that if they were lucky, some of the bait, maybe all of it, had attracted big gators to take a bite and get hooked.  As they headed back, Illya took advantage of the lull to wolf down one of the four sandwiches he had ordered.  He was happy to discover that it was a catfish po’boy.  He had just taken a big swig of water when Toby cut the engine and said, “Here’s a chance to prove your worth, Englishman.  Look over there!”

Illya looked to where Toby was pointing and could see an alligator swimming about forty feet off the bow of their boat. 

“You think you can hit that?”

“I can certainly try.  Angel told me there is a kill spot on a gator.  Where should I aim?”

“At the top of his head.  I know that’s a hard shot from here, but if you can wing ‘em, I can get my treble hook on him, so do your thing, man.”

Illya looked through the scope of the rifle Toby had given him.  The gator felt no threat and was leisurely swimming across the bayou, unaware that he was in the crosshairs of a Russian assassin.  Illya tracked the creature easily and when it turned its head slightly, he squeezed the trigger.  The creature convulsed in the water and disappeared.

“ _Coo wee!_ Nigel, you a gator hunter for sure!” Toby yelled as he sped the boat up and raced to the last place the animal was seen.  “Take the wheel, man!” he ordered as he grabbed his treble hook and began casting it into the water.  On the third cast, he felt a weight and tugged hard.  “I got him!  He still got some fight in him so when I get him to the surface, you shoot him on the top of his head!”  Moments later, the wounded gator appeared on the surface thrashing back and forth as it tried to get off the hook.  Illya stood on the edge of the pirogue, rifle in hand, watching the gator as he waited for a clean shot, all the while with Toby yelling, “Shoot!  Shoot, dammit!”

Finally, the behemoth lifted his head just right and he put a bullet in the quarter – sized kill zone.  It stopped moving immediately and a relieved Toby slapped the smaller man on the shoulder.  “You did it!  Now, we got to get him in the boat.”  He showed Illya the proper way to roll the monster into the pirogue and cover him with a wet blanket so he didn’t dry out.  “Nigel, since this is your first gator, I’ma give you the honor of tagging him.”  He handed Illya the plastic tag along with a knife and talked him through cutting a slit in the tail to slide the tag through.  “That was some good shootin’.  This is a good size, too.  I guessin’ he’s ten foot long.”

Illya examined the monster closely from the large teeth, to the claws on each foot and the powerful looking tail.  “I am amazed how much, even wounded, it fought you.  Are you not afraid of being pulled overboard?”

“Anybody with sense is scared of bein’ pulled overboard, gator huntin’ takes all your attention or it takes your life.”

“I have to admit I was quite surprised when Angel agreed to go hunting with Tommy.  She told me that she and Joey used to hunt together.  Do women usually go out hunting alligators?”  

“We live off the land down here for the most part, so almost everybody knows how to hunt and fish and butcher.  Usually, it’s the menfolk who go gator huntin’, but a woman will go out on the bayou if she has to and Joey, well, her man up and left her when Angel was around seven years old.  That first season after Andre left, she got some tags and went huntin’.  Started taking Angel when she was fourteen.  Both of ‘em are good shots and fearless hunters; ain’t scared of the work, at all.”

“I see.  On average, how many alligators does a hunter consider to be a good day’s catch?”

“Oh, it’s not a good day if you don’t get at least twenty – five.”  He turned the boat around and began heading back to their first set of hooks, completely missing the look of dismay on Illya’s face. 


	4. Chapter 4

By ten AM, Toby and Illya had put seven gators in the pirogue.  The Russian continued to be amazed at the way Toby held the gators on the line while the beasts fought and rolled and banged into the boat in an attempt to escape.  He was glad he was the shooter and wasn’t expected to wrangle the alligators.  He was genuinely interested in the entire process and asked questions between shooting about the Cajun way of life. 

“I think we should head over to the buyer’s now, Nigel.  A couple of these bad boys are really weighin’ the boat down.  We sell these, eat something and then head back to the water.”

“Sounds good, Toby.” 

They headed back to where they had put the boat in the swamp and Toby backed the truck and boat trailer to the water’s edge.  He attached a winch to a metal hook on the boat’s bow and then turned his small generator on and rewound the line, thus pulling the loaded pirogue up onto the trailer.  “Ya like that, huh, Nigel?”

They got in the truck before Illya replied, “That is an ingenious device.”

“Thank you!  Made it myself.  I don’t need it to get the boat off the trailer, but I saw no reason why I had to load gators in the back of my truck and then pull the boat up on the trailer.  When we get to Hebert’s, they got a forklift they use to move the catch.”

It took just under an hour to get to Hebert’s and Illya wasn’t sure at first that they had arrived.  Toby pulled into a gas station that had two pumps out front and what he thought was a mechanic’s garage until Toby pulled into it.  There had been a couple of wizened, bearded men sitting in front of what Illya could see was a store attached to the station that Toby waved to as they drove by.

They got out of the truck just as a heavyset man with black hair wearing a cream colored suit came out of a back office.  “Toby!  Good to see you!”  He looked at Illya and smiled.  “I haven’t seen you before; my name is Francois Hebert,” he said as he extended his hand to shake, “You’re new around here.”

“That’s Nigel Bellamy,” Toby said, “He’s from England doin’ a story on gator huntin’ for his newspaper and guess what?  He’s a good shot, he’s been my shooter since Freddie messed up his ankle.”

“Nice to meet you,” Illya said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Likewise.”

“I know you will be busy today, but if it is possible, I would like to interview you to get an alligator buyer’s perspective and perhaps, have a tour of your operation?”

“Tell you what, Nigel.  A couple of hunters have already dropped off their catches and I got people in the back skinnin’ ‘em.  You’re welcome to check it out while Toby and I handle our business.  Go right through that door, just stay out of folks’ way.”

“Thank you.”  Illya wasted no time entering the processing area.  He was astonished to see how large the room was. There were fifteen long tables; each one either had a gator on it or a gator was being lifted onto it with a winch.  Each table had one person to skin the gator on it.  He watched as a man used a knife to easily remove the skin from an approximately nine foot alligator.  Pushing the body aside, he used a scraper to remove the remaining fat and meat from the hide before salting it and rolling it up to place with the other skins.  The whole process took less than a half hour.  He was about to go exploring when Toby appeared at the doorway.

“Come on, man!  I got our money and it’s time to go!  _Allons!_ ”

Toby and Illya went back to Hebert’s three more times that first day and each time, Illya would explore the processing area a little further.  By the time they had baited all the hooks for overnight fishing, gone to Hebert’s and finished off – loading their last catch of the day, it was almost completely dark and the Russian was completely exhausted.  Between the hard labor, the relentless sun and the humidity, he was feeling bone tired and extremely hungry.  The four sandwiches he had ordered from the restaurant were a distant memory and it was all he could do to not just tell Toby to head straight back to Joey’s place instead of the Army Navy store they were now parked in front of so Illya could buy more caps and sunscreen.  Toby stopped him as he reached for the door handle of the truck.

“Here’s your pay for today, Nigel.  Use it to shop.”  He pressed bills into Illya’s hands.

“I cannot accept this, Toby.  My newspaper is already paying me.”

“ _Ce va,_ Nigel.  Your paper is payin’ you to write a story.  _I’m_ payin’ you to be my shooter.  I ain’t brookin’ no argument from you!”

Illya was too tired to debate anymore, so he went shopping for what he needed, paid for it and got back in the car.  It was going on nine – thirty when they pulled up in front of the rooming house.

“Come on, Nigel, let’s go see what’s for supper.  I am starvin’.”

The two men entered the house through the restaurant.  Illya was surprised to see the dining room so full.  “Hey, Joey!” Toby called out, “What’s the special?”

“Al’s brother shot two big ol’ hogs on his land that was tearin’ up his wife’s vegetable garden and he gimme one for lettin’ Al help him butcher them suckers.  So we got roast pork and spare ribs to go along with the fried catfish and gar I was planning to have.  For sides we got cornbread; collards; okra, corn and tomatoes; and mashed sweet potatoes.  So, can I put you both down for dinner?”

Toby nodded _yes_ and Illya’s stomach growled, but he said, “I need to shower first.”

“Oh, honey!  _Everybody_ needs to shower after gator huntin’!  I just want to know so I can charge your room.  And Nigel, just so you know, dinner is all you can eat just like breakfast.  Go on, git cleaned up.”

They headed upstairs.  “Nigel, how long you plannin’ on stayin’?  You can be my shooter as long as you want.”

“I will remain your shooter as long as I am here, but I honestly do not know how long that will be.  I plan to stay as long as I need to in order to write the best article possible.”

Toby clapped him on the shoulder when they got to the top of the stairs.  “See you downstairs,” he said as he headed to his room.

Illya went to his room and stripped down to his birthday suit.  He went into the bathroom, turned on the water and just let it run over him for a few minutes.  He was in good shape, of course, but the combination of humidity and unrelenting sun had been draining.  The glare of the sun reflecting off the water had given him a slight headache, prompting him to invest in a good pair of sunglasses at the Army Navy store.  As he began to wash his hair he thought, _I have to start formulating a plan for exploring Hebert’s processing plant._ As good as the water felt, he finally finished and turned it off.  He put on fresh underwear followed by cotton slacks and a polo shirt.  The smells wafting upstairs were urging him to hurry.  He checked his watch; it read _9:52._

By the time he returned to the dining room, some spaces had opened up and he ended up sitting next to Angelique and across from Tommy.  Platters of food started heading his way and he filled the plate in front of him and began to eat.  _This is some of the best food I have ever eaten!_   As he put another helping of meat on his plate, he said to no one in particular, “Is the food always this good here?”

Tommy laughed, “The food is the reason I stay here every season!  Al gives my Mama a run for her money in the kitchen, but don’t tell her I said that!”

Before he could say more, Johnny Guist, who had been eating quietly said, “Did any of y’all notice anything strange in your huntin’ grounds?”

That stilled all the conversation in the room.  “What do you mean?” Angelique asked.

“The gators.  I had three good – sized ones hooked.  One was a real tree – shaker.  Or _should_ have been.  Big bull, almost thirteen foot.  Dead on the line.  All three.”

“What do you think happened?” Illya asked.

“All three had been mauled to death by other gators.  When Jody and me pulled the bodies up to the surface, they were covered in bite marks.  All of them had missing limbs.”

Toby whistled in amazement while everyone else except Illya gasped.  “I take it this is unusual?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” Johnny replied, “Cannibalism happens, but it’s the big gators that will eat the little ones, usually because it’s mating season and the bulls are being territorial.  This wasn’t like that at all.  And there was something else, too.”  He shook his head and looked at his shooter, Jody.  “The gators we _didn’t_ catch…It was like they were watching us, waiting for us to be distracted.  A few times, I saw gators _following_ us.”

All the Cajuns looked shocked.  “ _Following_ you?” Toby repeated.  “I ain’t never heard of such a thing!”  He looked at Illya and explained, “Gators tend to avoid people, especially people in boats.  But they _are_ ambush hunters.”

Illya’s brow furrowed.  “What does that mean?”

Joey spoke up.  “It means don’t stand too close to the water’s edge if you don’t have to and pay attention to what’s around you if you do.  Gators come up out the water killer fast and grab what’s too slow to get out the way.  Mostly deer, hogs, and other smaller critters…”

“But sometimes, pets and people,” Angelique added.  “I didn’t notice any gators acting strangely.”  She looked at Tommy, who shrugged.  “Neither one of us did.”

Johnny took another heaping helping of chopped barbeque and greens.  “All I know,” he said between bites, “is that I lost good money taking those ruined gators to Hebert and I can’t afford for it to keep happening.”

“It was probably some kind of freaky fluke, Johnny,” Toby said.  “You probably got a cannibal in your hunting area takin’ advantage of the hooked gators.  If it happens again, bait some of the hooks with gator meat and you’ll get ‘em for sure.”  The other hunters nodded their agreement.

Illya finished his meal and yawned.  Covering his mouth, he smiled an apology and said, “I better go to bed; four – thirty will be here soon.  Goodnight, everyone.”

A chorus of “G’Night!” followed him up the stairs.  He undressed quickly and pointed the fan toward his bed.  He double – checked his room door and placed his Walther under his pillow.  Lying down, he placed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.  He was full and exhausted and sleep was already tugging at him, but he was thinking about what he had learned and what it meant.

_Joey’s alligators are unusually aggressive, Johnny and Jody reported strange alligator behavior in their hunting area.  Hebert is the buyer they both use.  That cannot be a coincidence.  I will have to be extra vigilant tomorrow; I have a feeling we may encounter very dangerous alligators._

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Napoleon had arrived in Nice, France and was now ensconced in a beautiful house located on a large estate on the outskirts of town.  He marveled again at his superior’s ability to provide what was needed to solidify his cover.  _The man’s resources are seemingly limitless!  Mr. Waverly_ _just happens to be very good friends with the owner of this place who just happens to be spending an extended period of time in Ibiza and has no problems loaning it, his cars and his staff to UNCLE?  I need friends like that!_

His original plan had been to take the train into Italy and simply mention that he lived in the Nice area, but now his cover was so good he could invite newfound “friends” to his “home” if it came to that.  He had been introduced to the staff as Mr. Felice, so he didn’t have to worry about the staff slipping up and calling him Solo. 

He had slept quite well on his flight, so now he modified his plan and decided to head into France that day instead of resting for a day.  He was currently driving a brand new Peugeot, courtesy of Mr. Waverly’s friend, listening to contemporary Italian hits on the radio and thinking excitedly about his mission.  He was like a racehorse in the gate; ready to be let loose so he could do what he was trained to do.  His mind briefly went to his partner and their brief conversation and he grimaced at the idea of hunting prehistoric beasts in the bayou.  _Poor Illya, one day we’ll get an assignment that lets you be the rich aristocrat._ He laughed out loud.  _But not today, moy droog!_    Oh, how his adrenaline flowed when he was at the start of a mission!

He arrived at San Remo in good time since he had no real traffic to contend with and headed to Romolo Mare on the lungomare Argentina, a well – known and highly rated seafood restaurant right on the water.  It was supposedly a popular place with the monied locals and he hoped he could begin to make inroads with the vintners in the area.

He was truly hungry when he was seated at a table that not only afforded him an unobstructed view of the dining room and kitchen door, but also some of the street below.  He ordered a seafood salad and a half - carafe of Chardonnay.  He had arrived just as the restaurant had begun serving lunch and he was watching unobtrusively as people began to arrive.

Two women he assumed to be mother and daughter entered and were seated two tables away from him.  Both were quite stunning; the elder of the two had platinum hair pulled up into an elegant French roll, tastefully done makeup and despite the heat, was wearing a black dress albeit with three – quarter length sleeves.  The younger woman also had blonde hair, but it was more of a honey tone.  She was wearing eye makeup that made her look slightly exotic and contrasted beautifully with the red blouse and white slacks she wore.  She looked his way and he smiled.  Apparently, she liked what she saw because she smiled in return.

Napoleon turned his attention back to his lunch.  He poured some more wine and ate.  He could see the women out of the corner of his eye and could tell that he had caught the younger woman’s interest.  There were a few ways this could play out; right now, he was hoping she would approach him.  If she didn’t, he had a Plan B, but he was thinking he wouldn’t need it. 

He listened as the waiter took their orders and they engaged in light conversation as they ate their meals.  He had slowed down his eating so that they were almost finished by the time he was done with his food.  He leaned back and sipped his wine with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.  He was thinking he might have to go with Plan B when the younger woman said something to her companion, stood and came his way.

“Excuse me for the interruption,” she said in Italian, “but I’m curious about the wine you’re drinking.  Do you know which winery produced it?”

“You’re not interrupting at all,” he replied smoothly, “This is from the Brunetti Vineyards.”  He allowed a bit of a French accent to tint his Italian.  “Why do you ask?”

“I noticed you were having the _frutti de mar_ salad.  Allow me to introduce myself: My name in Antonia Monaco of Monaco Vineyards.  We produce a Chardonnay that I believe is a superior pairing with that salad.  I am rather disappointed that the server didn’t recommend it to you.”

Napoleon stood and bowed slightly from the waist.  “What a coincidence!  My name is Antonio!”

Antonia smiled and laughed.  “How fun!  Perhaps we are related somehow.”

Napoleon took her left hand in his right, raised it to his lips and kissed it.  “I am happy to say that we are not.  I’m Antonio Felice.  I’m originally from Palermo where my family still resides, but I have lived in France for the last ten years.”

“So nice to meet you, Antonio.”

“Likewise.  Perhaps, we could have lunch or a drink tomorrow so I could taste…your wine.”  The trained seducer knew he had piqued her interest, but he knew enough not to come on strong.  “Would you like to meet here?”

“Oh, no.  I only come here because my mother likes this place.  I know a _much_ better place not too far from here.”  She glanced around at the mostly full tables and said softly, “The average age of customers here is death.  The restaurant I like caters to people our age.”

“Wonderful!  Here’s my number, I’ll be home this evening; if you still wish to have lunch with me tomorrow, call and give me the name and address and I’ll meet you.”

She took the calling card he gave her and tucked it into her purse.  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Antonio.  Goodbye.”  She went back to her table, helped her mother up and the two of them left the premises.

Napoleon sat a few moments longer and then paid for his meal before heading out into the afternoon sun.  The street was fairly quiet as most of the shops were closed for _riposo,_ the Italian version of Spain’s siesta.  Knowing that the majority of businesses wouldn’t reopen before four made him decide to go back to the estate and gather additional information from Intel about what he had learned so far.  _Besides,_ he thought as he put his car in gear and headed “home,” _I need to be there when Antonia calls._

 


	6. Chapter 6

He was met by the estate’s Major Domo who instructed him to leave the keys in the car so that one of the servants could place the vehicle in the garage.  He headed up to his bedroom and after sweeping it for bugs (old habits that keep you alive die hard), he assembled his communicator.  “Open Channel I, overseas relay, please.”

A sultry voice purred from the device.  “Hello, Napoleon.  What can I do for you?”

“Thomasina, you little Georgia peach, you!  I’m sorry I had to break our date, but duty called.  I promise I will make it up to you.  Forgive me?”

“Of course, you flatterer.  I would love…I mean, Agent Solo, you have need of Intel’s services?”

The quick turnaround from flirtation to all business told him that another party, probably Miss Rogers, had entered the area.  “I do.  I need all the information you can gather on the Brunetti Vineyards, the Monaco Vineyards and Antonia Monaco.  How soon can you pull that together?”

“Give me a few hours; I have a few requests ahead of yours unless it’s urgent.”

“As long as I get it before nine PM Nice time.  I will contact you in five hours.  Solo out.”

Napoleon spent the next few hours walking through the house and grounds familiarizing himself with everyone and everything.  It simply wouldn’t do if he had guests and didn’t know how to get from one part of “his” house to the other.

He had just eaten dinner prepared by the cook and was relaxing in the library with a glass of port.  _I wonder if Illya’s had food as good as this?_ he was thinking when his communicator began to trill.  Assembling it quickly, he answered, “Solo.”

“This is Miss Rogers, Agent Solo.  Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Just a minute.”  There was a rolltop desk against one wall and when he sat down at it, he opened a drawer and found a pad and some pencils.  “I’m ready, go ahead.”

“Antonia Monaco is the oldest daughter of Giancarlo and Gina Monaco.  Giancarlo is the fourth generation owner of the Monaco Vineyards.  Five years ago, the business was in danger of bankruptcy due to some poor business decisions made by Dario Monaco, Giancarlo’s father.  Dario died in an accident and Giancarlo took over leadership.  He is credited with saving the family business and it seems to have flourished under his guidance though they produce only slightly more wine.”

“Interesting.  How many daughters are there?”

“Antonia has a much younger sibling, Gabriella, who is a teenager away at boarding school and no brothers.  She is currently single.”

“Thanks.  What about the Brunetti Vineyards?”

“That is a comparatively new business; it’s only been around about thirty years, but their wines generally get good reviews.  It’s owned by Giuseppe Brunetti, a widower with a son named Giorgio who’s your age, Napoleon.  It’s always been financially stable.”

“I appreciate getting this so quickly, thanks again.”

“You are welcome, Agent Solo.  Is there anything you would like me to tell Miss Georgia Peach?” she asked sarcastically, “She’s on break right now.”

“No, no.  No message.”  He knew he was still in the doghouse with Lisa Rogers for causing one of her best translators to quit suddenly and move back home.*  I’m signing off now.  Solo out.” 

As he was replacing his communicator in his inside jacket pocket, he could hear a telephone ringing in another part of the house.  A buzz of the phone’s intercom on the desk alerted him that he had a call.  “Who is it?” he asked the butler on the other end.

“A Miss Antonia Monaco, Sir.”

“Thank you, Guido.”  He pushed a button to connect himself.  “Hello, Antonia!  It’s good to hear from you!  How are you?”

“Hello, I’m fine.  I was calling to ask you if you were still interested in meeting for lunch tomorrow.”

“I would love to have lunch with you, Antonia.  However, I must make one change.”

“Oh?”

Napoleon was pleased to hear disappointment in her voice.  “If my nonna were still alive, she would box my ears for suggesting we meet at the restaurant instead of picking you up like a gentleman.  Is it all right with you if I come to your home to do so?”

“Oh, yes!”  The relief in her voice was palpable.  “Of course!  Get a pencil and paper and I’ll give you directions.”

“I’m ready, go ahead.”  He wrote down everything she said and then read it back for accuracy.  They chatted some more until Antonia said goodnight and got off the phone.  He finished his wine and headed upstairs.  Closing the bedroom door behind him, he assembled his communicator again and said, “Open Channel D, please.  Overseas relay.”

“Mr. Solo, how good of you to report!  What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Good evening, Mr. Waverly.  I’ve met a member of the Monaco Vineyards family and Section IV informed me that the business had a major financial turnaround that doesn’t quite seem to be borne out by an increase in production, so I’ll be looking into it further.  A question, Sir, if I may?”

“Yes, Mr. Solo.”

“If someone decides to check me out, how deep does my cover go?”

“Oh, it runs quite deep, Mr. Solo.  Antonio Felice does exist; he owns everything you’re taking advantage of at the moment and he hasn’t spoken to his family in years.  You shouldn’t experience any problems along those lines.”

“That’s very good to know.  I hope to have something to report in a few days.”

“I would expect no less from you, Mr. Solo.  Waverly out.” 

He disassembled his device and prepared for bed.  He was feeling optimistic about the next day.  His gut was telling him that the Monaco vineyards were connected to THRUSH somehow and if his instincts were right, and they were most of the time, he was certain that he would be finishing up his end of the mission sooner than later and might even be heading to Louisiana to assist Illya. 

He almost contacted the Russian to tell him so, but when he glanced at the time, he realized that his partner was out on the bayou.  As he slipped between the satin sheets of the massive bed he thought, _Poor Illya.  He must be miserable._  

 

*refers to my tale, "A Broken Heart," which is also archived here.


	7. Chapter 7

Toby and Illya didn’t encounter “very dangerous” alligators the next day nor were the gators they caught mutilated in any way, but again at dinner that night, Johnny insisted that the beasts in his hunting area were acting abnormally aggressive toward each other.

“I’m tellin’ y’all, the fifth line Jody and me went to, we could see the line was down and the gator had come up on land.  Now, Nigel, when a gator’s on land and hooked, he ain’t too happy and you gotta be real careful.  They’ll be layin’ there like they’re dead and then  BOOM!  They’re movin’ fast to the water and if you’re between it and the water, you gotta problem for sho’.”

“Well, Jody gets the gun and goes to step off the boat and that gator turns and heads straight for us!  Jody had to fall back into the pirogue and it’s a good thing he done that ‘cause it caused us to push back into the water.  Otherwise, that sumbitch would have been in the boat with us!”  He looked around at Joey and Angelique.  “I apologize for my language, ladies.”

The room had quieted to listen to the man’s story.  Though Illya sat at the long table with the other houseguests and Joey and Angelique, the restaurant was open to all the residents of Houma who were mostly gone by the time the hunters returned, but a few stragglers, usually couples lingering over dessert and coffee, would be there.  The official closing time was ten, but of course the hunters ate late and were the last customers.

Joey spoke first.  “Is Jody okay?”

“Yeah, a bit shook up, but okay.  It was close, though.  Damn close.”

“How was the rest of your day?” Toby asked.

“Weird.  We got a good number of gators to take to Hebert.  A lot of ‘em had bite marks like the other day.  One thing that did have me and Jody spooked good was the quiet.  No birds, nothin’ makin’ noise.  Jody said he noticed whenever I gunned the engine, any gator he saw was lookin’ our way and some started to follow.”

“Well, that should of made treble hookin’ easier,” a man sitting with a woman Illya assumed was his wife piped up.

“I can’t describe it,” Johnny said, “Jody and I both felt like hookin’ one of those suckers following us would have been a real bad idea.  I kept my distance.”

That put an end to conversation and everyone went back to their supper.  For once, the Russian’s huge appetite and fast eating fit in with everyone else.  Gator hunting is very physically demanding work and everyone ate as much as they could as fast as they could so that they could get to bed to get at least four hours’ sleep before heading back out to do it.

Toby and Illya had quickly fallen into a routine.  They ate at four – thirty, drove to Toby’s hunting grounds and were on the water usually around six.  By the time the sun was up, they would be at the first line.  They were catching lots of gators and would go to Hebert’s at least three, sometimes four times a day to unload.  While Toby conducted business, Illya was able to walk around freely and inspect Hebert’s operation.  He was asking questions of every worker, he watched gators being skinned and the meat being processed.  Everything seemed to be normal, except…

 _Something is not right,_ he thought as he walked around the exterior of the building.  _Section IV overheard phonecalls between Hebert and THRUSH!  He must be doing something for them, I am certain of it, but I cannot find any evidence of a plot.  I am missing_ something.  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t realize Toby was calling him until a stone flew past him and hit a tree.

“Nigel!  _Allons!”_

Illya allowed himself to look a little embarrassed as he ran to Toby’s truck and jumped inside.  “Sorry, I was woolgathering.”

“Boy, you ain’t never lied.  I called you twice!  Let’s go check these lines and bait ‘em so we can finish up and go home!”

Neither man wore a watch because it would be ruined during the course of the day, so time was judged by the position of the sun and the amount of gators in the boat.  This was their third time leaving Hebert’s and they figured they had enough time to do one more round and be back on land by full dark.

Illya took a drink of water from the large thermos he had refilled at Hebert’s and went to place it on the truck’s floor behind his seat.  A white five gallon bucket caught his eye.  “What is this, Toby?  I did not see it before.”

“I bought some of Hebert’s chum off him,” Toby explained, “Mine was about to give out so I bought some to make sure we can bait all our lines.”

Illya had seen stacks of containers just like this one set off in a far corner of the building early on, but hadn’t had a chance to get too close.  “What kind of chum does he have?”

“Same stuff I use: rotten chicken marinating in beef and hog blood.  Best stuff there is for gator huntin’.”

The Russian crinkled his nose in disgust.  The first time he had smelled what Toby was using to bait his hooks, his stomach had lurched and it was all he could do to hold on to his breakfast, much to the Cajun’s amusement.  He considered it an accomplishment that he only found the odor disgusting now.  “Alligators may have big teeth and claws, but they must have a terrible sense of smell.  I cannot imagine smelling that and thinking it is something good to eat.”

Toby took his right hand and clapped Illya’s left shoulder.  “That’s why they’re animals, Nigel, and we rule over ‘em.”

They made their rounds, collecting eight more gators and baiting all the hooks.  Illya had learned to do it by watching Toby.  Immediately after placing the blood – covered piece of chicken on a hook, they would hang it so it dangled about six inches above the water and then dunk their hands to clean them before heading to the next line.  By the time they got back to Hebert’s it was going on nine PM and it was close to 9:40 when they pulled out of there. 

Illya waved to Joey as he followed Toby upstairs to their rooms.  He took a quick shower and washed his hair and while the water was still running, he contacted Headquarters.  “Open Channel D, please.”

“Mr. Kuryakin!  You’ve been there a few days, do you have anything to report yet?” Mr. Waverly asked.

“Sadly, not yet, Sir.  Mr. Hebert allows me to go anywhere I wish on his property and I have found no evidence of a THRUSH connection.”

“I see.  Are you saying that you don’t think there is one?”

“No, Sir; only that I have not found it.  I believe Section IV’s intel.  I will find the connection though I admit: Maintaining this cover at the same time is challenging and will become more so as time goes on.  The hunters work seven days a week since it is only a thirty day long season, so I must, as well.”

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin, I am well aware of how hard this will be for you.  I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, both as a spy and a…gator hunter.  Good luck.”  An audible click indicated Mr. Waverly had ended the transmission.

He cut the water off and changed.  One of the things he bought at the Army Navy store was a pair of sweatpants that doubled as his loungewear so that he didn’t have to put on a fresh slacks to eat dinner.

Everyone was fairly quiet over dinner.  It had been very humid and all the hunters were exhausted.  Illya felt the best thing to do was to follow everyone else’s lead and just concentrate on eating.

Angelique and Joey got up to clear the table, but when Joey began coughing, Illya insisted she sit while he helped her daughter in the kitchen.  Tonight there hadn’t been any stragglers, only the hunters remained.  Al and Joey had taken care of the other diners’ dishes, so there wasn’t that much left to do.

“Mama!” Angel called from the kitchen, “Nigel and I will take care of the dishes!  You go on up to bed!  Johnny!”

“Yeah, Angel?”

“Help my Mama up to bed, please.”

“Oh, baby…” Joey started to protest.

“No arguments, Mama!” Angelique broke in, “Nigel offered to help, I’m sending Al home, Johnny’s going to help you and you go to bed!”

Joey’s laughter drifted in from the dining room.  “ _Oui,_ Miss Boss Woman!  _Coo wee,_ the daughter tellin’ the Mama what to do now!  C’mon, Johnny, we better git before she come out here wit a switch!”

Illya had to grin at the look of satisfaction on Angelique’s face when she realized her mother was obeying her.  They both waved “Goodnight” to Al and Angelique washed while he dried.

They went back into the dining room to wipe down the table and chairs and once that was done, Angelique said, “I’m stepping outside to smoke.  I’d like to speak to you.”

He nodded and they exited the kitchen door and sat on the back porch.  She lit her cigarette, inhaled deeply and then slowly blew the smoke out.  “I am not asking you for details, I just want to know: Are you making progress?”

He looked at her thoughtfully and shrugged.  “No.”

“The longer you’re here, the greater the chance Napoleon will come.  I don’t want to see him.”

“It will not come to that.”

“You don’t know that!” she hissed, “If Hebert is THRUSH, I am in danger of being discovered.  If that were to happen, whoever is the Chair of the Central Committee would be obligated to put a contract out on me. There would be a little war right here in Houma.  People are very close knit here and even though I was gone for years, people would stand up for me because I’m Cajun.  I can’t have their blood on my hands!”

The Russian stared at her as she spoke and then angrily tamped out her cigarette.  “I cannot believe I am about to say this, but I believe you, Angel.  I believe you are an Innocent in this situation.  As such, I will do my best to keep you and these people out of danger.  As for Napoleon, I will say this: If he does come here, it will be because he was sent, not because I asked him.”

Angelique smiled.  “Thank you.  We better get upstairs; four AM gets here way too fast.”

He nodded in agreement.  “Toby told me that he works seven days during the hunting season.”

“Everyone does, _Cherie._ The first two weeks after the end of the season are basically for recuperation, very little gets done.  That should be more incentive for you to accomplish your mission: You will also be working every day.  _Allons,_ let’s go upstairs.”

Illya stood and held the door for her.  As they heading to their respective rooms he said, “Your mother is right: You are bossy.”

Her head whipped around to glare at him until she realized that he had actually made a joke.  She gave him a brief smile and said, “Good night, Nigel.” Before going into her room and closing her door.

Illya stripped down and got in bed.  Lying on his back, his last thought before drifting off was, _It is a very strange time indeed when not only am I civil to and joking with Angelique DeChien, I have promised to protect her!_            

 

      


	8. Chapter 8

Four in the morning did indeed arrive too fast.  _I feel like I have been doing this for_ months _and it has only been a few days!,_ he thought wearily as he came down for breakfast.  As platters started being passed to him, he managed a slight grin.  _This is the best part of this mission!_ He ate and slurped coffee to his heart’s content before he and Toby climbed into the Cajun’s truck with their lunches and other supplies and headed out to their hunting grounds.

The first couple of lines hadn’t been touched, so they dipped the bait in the blood to “refresh” it and headed deeper into the swamp.  The next few lines yielded decent sized alligators which elevated Toby’s mood.  When they arrived at the eighth line, they could see it was down and covered by a lot of vegetation.

“Get the gun, Nigel,” Toby said as he stopped the boat and stepped to the edge to grab the line.  He knelt down and began to move the swamp grass out of the way so it wouldn’t tangle in the line.  He stood up and said, “Okay, let’s see what we got” and tugged.

Suddenly, a large gator came out of the water and started clawing at the boat.  “ _Mon Dieu!”_ Toby yelled as he fell back, “He tryin’ to get in the boat!  Shoot, Nigel!  Shoot!”

Illya was momentarily shocked by the speed of the animal’s attack, but he quickly recovered.  He moved to the center of the pirogue and made the kill shot.  The men stared at the beast for a few seconds before rolling it onboard and then sitting.  Illya looked at Toby, who was wiping his face and breathing heavily.  “What just happened, Toby?”

“I pulled on the line and that sumbitch come up like a freight train!  I ain’t never had a gator do that before!  I lost my balance when the line went slack.  Fishin’ for gators is like a tug of war, but he ain’t pull, he wasn’t tryin’ to get away, he was tryin’ to git me in the boat!  Damn!”

“Take a moment to collect your wits, Toby.  I will bait this hook and drive us to the next line.”

“You a good man, Nigel, you all right.  _Merci._ ”

Illya baited the hook, washed his hands, dipped the blanket they used to keep the gator carcasses cool into the water before covering them and then expertly guided the pirogue back to the middle of the water and drove to the next line.

Nothing as dramatic happened the rest of the day, but both men noticed that the caught gators did seem a little feistier than the ones they had caught previously.  They had five gators in the boat for their last trip to Hebert’s for a total of seventeen for the day.

“ _Coowee,_ Nigel, this wasn’t a good day for me at all, only seventeen gators!  I can’t stand no more days like this here; I won’t tag out if this keeps up!”

“Tag out?”

“Yeah.  That means I used up all my tags I got.  You do that and you might get more next season.  The more tags you fill, the more money you make, the easier your year gonna be.  This one month here I earn half my money for the entire year!”

Illya was truly impressed.  “I did not know that.”

“Yeah, buddy.  That’s why nobody takes a day off unless it’s absolutely necessary.  Too much at stake.  We pretty much live off the land, but you gotta have cash for some stuff.  My wife makes most of our clothes and she’s good at doctorin’, but sometimes you gotta buy shoes and boots and see a real doctor.”  He laughed as he turned the headlights to high beams as they continued to bounce along to the buyer’s.  “People around here gotta be damn near dyin’ afore they go to the doc.”

Illya was looking out the window at the darkness.  He knew the few lights he saw in the distance were houses.  “I understand; I have known many people who feel the same way.  Angel told me she took Joey to the doctor, though.”

“Angel’s a good girl,” Toby said, “She come home and when she heard Joey’s cough, she took her to N’Awlins to see a lung doctor.  Joey told me she’s done going to any doctors, though.  Between you ‘n me, she ain’t really doing too good.  She won’t say, but I don’t think she’s gonna be around much longer.  You see how fast she gets tired.”

Illya nodded, but said nothing.  This was the most conversation he had ever gotten out of Toby and he didn’t want to push his luck by appearing too curious about someone’s personal business.  Instead he said, “We are low on bait.  Are you planning to get more from Hebert?”  A suspicion had begun to form while they were out on the bayou and he had been wondering how he was going to pursue it.

“Yeah.  My neighbors that I usually get my blood from didn’t do as much butcherin’ as they normally do, so I need to get more from him.”

“Fine.  While you are conducting your business with Mr. Hebert, I will go get the bait and load it into the truck.”

“Good thinkin’, Nigel, thanks!”

When they arrived at the buyer’s, Illya jumped out the truck, waved a greeting to Hebert and then headed inside to the far corner of the building where the containers of blood and chicken were.  He had drunk all his water and managed to get his thermos out of the truck and under his shirt without Toby noticing.  For once, he was glad that the bait was so foul smelling because no one’s work station was near it.   Putting his back between the workers and the containers, he opened one carefully and dunked the thermos in to fill it.  The odor caused him to gag and his stomach almost revolted when he grabbed a leg, pulled meat from it and placed that inside the thermos.  He tucked it back under his shirt, closed the container, wiped his hands on his pants and then picked it up and walked back out to the truck.  Once he put the container in the boat, he put the thermos in the small cloth bag that he used to hold it and his lunch and sat in the truck with the bag between his legs. 

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Toby got in.  “Sorry I took so long, but the radio was on in Hebert’s office and the weatherman says thunderstorms tomorrow.  That’s all I need.”

“Rain is a problem?”

“Not rain, _mon ami,_ thunderstorms.  My boat is metal.  We be fried like catfish we go out on the water in an ‘lectric storm.  Plain ol’ rain, we go to work.”

Illya shrugged, “Then for your sake, I hope it does not storm.”  _But for my sake, I hope the skies open up and the thunder rolls._       

 


	9. Chapter 9

When Illya awoke the next morning, he couldn’t hear rainfall, but every few minutes there was a rumble of thunder off in the distance.  He quickly performed his ablutions, got dressed and headed downstairs.  Toby and Johnny were standing on the front porch looking in the direction of the storm, sipping coffee.

“Good morning,” Illya said as he came through the screen door.  “What do you think, Toby?  Are we heading out?”

“I dunno, Nigel.  Me and Johnny both come downstairs early to listen to the weather and according to three different radio stations, we got lines of thunderstorms passing through all day.  I’m hopin’ they’re wrong, but it looks like today may be a washout.”

Johnny spat out the last swig of his coffee.  “I hate when the grounds get in my cup,” he snarled, “C’mon guys, let’s git breakfast.  We’ll all have a better idea of what we doin’ in a bit; don’t make no sense standing here.”

They were the first ones in the dining room.  Al himself stepped out the kitchen carrying a tray loaded down with several platters of scrambled eggs, waffles, bacon and boudin.  “Whoever’s ready for seconds first, come in the kitchen and get it for everybody.”

Tommy walked into the dining room on the tail end of Al’s instructions.  “Joey ain’t up yet?  Ain’t like her to sleep in during gator season,” he observed.

Al turned around and came back to the table.  Conspiratorially he whispered, “Y’all know Joey ain’t been up to snuff.  Lately, when the air is real hot and humid, like today, it’s hard for her to keep her breath.  Angel already been down here to get tea for her.”

All the men nodded their understanding.  There was nothing they could do about it, so they continued to eat.  Another roll of thunder sounded.

Toby sighed, “That was much closer than the last one I heard.  Damn, I might as well finish eating and go back to bed for a couple more hours.”

Illya was thinking that perhaps some of his partner’s famous luck had fallen his way.  “I will do the same.  If it is still storming, I think I will go into New Orleans so I can call my editors.  I can dictate from my notes to one of the secretaries and get my story started.”

The men finished eating and headed back to their rooms.   Illya stepped into his bathroom, turned on the sink faucet and then sat on the tub and called Mr. Waverly.

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin?  I’m surprised to hear from you at this time of day; I would have thought you would be heading to work by now.”

“Fortunately for me, Sir, there are several lines of thunderstorms moving through the area which preclude the hunters’ ability to be on the water.  Sir, I have reason to believe that Francois Hebert is the reason the alligators in this area have become extremely aggressive.  I think the delivery system he is using is the bait the hunters use to attract them.  I am taking advantage of the weather to drive to the New Orleans Field Office with a sample for testing.”

“Excellent, Mr. Kuryakin!  I will call the Senior Agent of that office and alert him to your arrival.  It’s a much smaller facility than here so there is no lab.  However, he has several contacts at Tulane University he uses when he needs something to be analyzed.”

“Then the sooner I get this sample to him, the better.  Could you please let him know that I will be there no later than nine - thirty?”

“Consider it done.  Good luck to you, Mr. Kuryakin.” 

Illya heard the click that let him know Mr. Waverly has closed the channel.  He exited the bathroom and checked the room clock.  _Five – thirty; I’ll set the alarm for seven – thirty._

Seven forty – five found him back inside the dining room drinking another cup of coffee while standing looking out the window.  It was still raining steadily, but there was no thunder directly overhead.  Toby still hadn’t come downstairs, but Johnny and Tommy had assured him that only a fool would go out with lightening in the area and as Tommy put it, “Ain’t no fools in this house.”

“Nope,” Johnny had said, “This gonna be a day of preppin’ for tomorrow.  I’ma put on my galoshes and rubber gloves, take the cover off my boat and use the rainwater to clean it.”

“That is a creative way to do it,” Illya said.  “I better get going, please let Toby know that I should be back around lunchtime.”

He had placed the thermos of bloody bait in the trunk and was just getting into his car when Angelique ran out of the house.  “Nigel!  Wait!”  She ran to the driver’s side window and when he rolled it down she said, “My Mama is having a terrible time in this humidity.  Is it alright if I take your fan to put in her room for awhile?  I already have the guys’ fans.  Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good.  One other thing: I heard you’re going into New Orleans.  I want to go with you so I can buy a dehumidifier for Mama.”

“I am not sure that is a good idea, Angel.”

Though there was no one else around them, she glanced about and leaned in closer to say softly, “Illya, I promised you I will not interfere with your mission and I promise you I only want to go to Alcide Hardware to buy a dehumidifier.  You can drop me off and I’ll wait there until you come to get me.”

He stared at her for a moment before handing over his room key.  “Do not make me regret this, Angelique.  Go put my fan in your mother’s room.  I will wait.”

“Thank you!” she said before turning around and bounding into the house.

He watched her go and wondered what Napoleon would think if he could see the two of them.  The Angelique Napoleon knew seemed to be gone.  Gone were the perfectly coiffed platinum hair, the flawlessly applied makeup and the fresh manicure featuring bright red polish on long exquisite fingernails.  Expensive designer wear had been replaced by dungarees, tee shirts, denim jackets and work boots.  The sophisticated, multilingual THRUSH super spy had transformed into a younger looking, fresh faced, country Cajun girl with medium brown hair snatched back into a ponytail who wore no makeup and had dirt under her nails at the end of the day.  _Maybe_ this _is the girl Napoleon saw when they made love,_ he thought.

Ten minutes later, the two former adversaries were bumping down the road on their way to New Orleans.  Illya had the radio of his car turned low so that he could concentrate; another storm was passing through and the AM radio crackled with static and the booms of thunder caused them both to jump.  The windshield wipers were going at top speed and barely keeping up with the rain sheeting down the glass.

“We’re almost at the point where the pavement starts,” she observed as she squinted to see.  “Maybe another ten minutes at this speed.”

Illya nodded tightly.  The combination of low visibility, wind and thunder, plus having Angelique in the car was causing him a good deal of stress.  He was hoping he would not have to stop to wait for the rain to subside.  Even though it was mid – morning, it was dark enough under the clouds and trees for him to have his high beams lit.

Finally, he could see the reflection of paved road in front of him and relief flooded him when he felt the tires climb onto it.  Next to him Angelique breathed a loud sigh of relief.  “ _Merci, mon Dieu,_ I was scared one of those trees would collapse on us!  We should be fine from here.”

Now that he was no longer feeling his way along a muddy road, he felt relaxed enough to speak.  “Are the alligators in your mother’s farm still acting overly aggressive?”

“No.  Mama told me the other day that Lou, their keeper, said they’ve calmed down considerably and are basically back to normal.  Why do you ask?”

“I have a theory.  What do your mother’s alligators eat?”

“Oh, lots of things.  They mainly get chicken and fish; occasionally, a muskrat or snake will get into their enclosure and they’ll eat it.”

“Does Joey get their food from Hebert?”

“No, but…” Angelique trailed off as a thought occurred to her.  “Not usually, but about four to six weeks ago, Lou came to work with a lot of gar, turtle and muskrat carcasses.  He said a friend of his had some friends come down from up North to hunt and fish, but they only ate the catfish and deer, so the friend kept some for himself and gave the rest to Lou for the gators.  Now that I’m thinking about it, it was around that time that their behavior changed.  You think Lou’s friend is Hebert and he did something to the carcasses?”

“I do.  Are they still eating that food?”

“They ate the last of it right before you showed up.”

“And now they are calm again.”

“Yes.”  Both lapsed back into silence as Illya reached the city limits.  “Alcide’s is in the Bywater neighborhood, on North Rampart Street,” Angelique said.  After several minutes, Illya pulled up in front of the hardware store.  As she got out she said, “When you come back, you can park in the lot behind the store.  If I am not in there, I will be across the street at that café.”

The Russian looked where she had pointed, said “I will see you in approximately two hours” and then drove away.  He drove to Carrollton, parked on Cherokee Street and then walked over to Adams and Pearl Streets where the UNCLE New Orleans Field Office, fronted by a shoe repair shop, was located.  He stepped in, flashed his UNCLE ID discreetly to the Section III manning the machinery that ground heels and shined leather and walked through the door marked “Employees Only.”

The receptionist smiled as she handed him a “Visitor’s” badge.  “Hello, Mr. Kuryakin,” she said, “Agent Jackson is expecting you.  I’ll take you there straightaway.”

He followed the woman down the hall as he noted that every UNCLE office he had ever been in, no matter how small, had the same looking hallways.  She knocked twice on a door before opening it and stepping aside to allow Illya to pass.  “Agent Jackson, Mr. Kuryakin is here” and with that, she stepped out and shut the door behind her.

Agent Charles Jackson stood and walked around his desk to shake Illya’s hand.  He was a tall, chocolate brown – skin man who stood six feet two inches tall and sported a crew cut.  “Welcome to New Orleans, Agent Kuryakin!  I understand you have something you want analyzed for content?”

Illya handed over the paper bag he had tucked under his shirt to protect it from the rain.  “Yes.  I believe there is something in that ghastly concoction of alligator bait that is driving them to become even more dangerously aggressive than usual.  I understand you have someone at Tulane University who can get the job done?”

“I sure do.  I’ve already let them know to expect this and put a rush on it.  Have a seat while I get this messengered over and find out what’s what.  I’ll be right back,” Jackson said as he walked out.  “There’s coffee there if you want any.”

He poured himself a cup, took a sip and grimaced.  _This is not half as good as Al’s coffee.  I am going to miss that food when I leave this place!_

He opened his communicator and called Mr. Waverly.  “I just handed the sample to Agent Jackson who is having it sent to Tulane as we speak.”

“Excellent!  I’ll be awaiting a report on the findings.”

“Yes, Sir.  Sir, if I may: How is Na, uh _Mr._ Solo doing with his portion of the mission?”

“Quite well; in fact, I can tell you that Mr. Hebert’s money supply should be drying up shortly so I expect you to be finishing up soon, as well.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good luck, Mr. Kuryakin.”  A click told him the communication had ended.

Agent Jackson returned a few moments later.  “My guy says he’s confident he’ll be able to complete the analysis no later than four today.”

“Perfect.  Whenever he calls, please contact Mr. Waverly with the results.  I will call you sometime after four.  I have to get back; thank you so much for your assistance.”

“My pleasure.  The next time you’re in this neck of the woods, we’ll have to go to the French Quarter.  The food there is fantastic.”

Illya was walked out and made it back to his car just as the skies opened up again.  It was so steamy inside, he cracked his window slightly and braved the rain getting in to get some air.  As luck would have it, when he got back by Alcide’s Hardware, there was a parking space directly across from it.  He made a quick U turn, parked and checked his watch.  It was going on eleven, so he decided to check for Angelique in the café first.

Sure enough, as soon as he walked in he saw her seated exactly where he would have chosen: a table away from the windows that afforded a view of the entire room, front and kitchen entrances while she sat with her back against the wall.  To her left at her feet sat a large box wrapped in twine with a handle through it.

She watched him approach as she drank from her cup.  She had two beignets on a plate in front of her.  “Sit,” she said, “I will be finished eating in a few minutes.  Besides, I am hoping this storm passes quickly.  Maybe we will be back in Houma before another one comes.”  She slid over to give him room on the bench.  “I assume you will be more comfortable sitting here.”

Illya was a little surprised she did that, but only replied, “Thank you,” before taking the seat.  A waiter appeared from the back to take his order.

“I suggest the chicory coffee, Nigel.  It’s quite good.”

Illya ordered that plus a boudin to tide him over until they got back to the boarding house.  His food and coffee arrived and the waiter returned to the kitchen.  Perhaps because of the weather, they were the only two customers.

Angelique chewed her food and drank her coffee slowly.  When she finished, she said without preamble, “So.  Hebert’s plot involves the alligators.  Somehow, he has managed to put something in the bait to make them crazy.  You don’t have to confirm, but I am fairly certain the reason you drove here was to get a sample of the bait tested.”  She pulled her wallet from her purse and put enough money on the table to cover both tabs.  “Leave a tip,” she said when he opened his mouth to protest.

Illya dropped some bills next to hers and stood up.  He reached down and grabbed the handle of the box and led the way to the car.  The rain hadn’t stopped, but it had slacked off a bit, though darker clouds could still be seen in the distance.

After they had been driving to Houma for about twenty minutes, Angelique said, “I’m in.”

Illya chanced a quick look at her.  “What do you mean ‘I’m in’?”

“If Hebert is the ‘friend’ who gave Lou those carcasses and if those carcasses contained something to alter my mother’s gators’ behavior, he endangered my mother and her workers.  If he has added that same something to the bait, he is endangering the lives and livelihoods of all of the hunters, including you and me.  He’s a Cajun and that means he has betrayed all of us by throwing in with THRUSH.  I can’t stand by while he does that, so I’m in.  I will do what I have to do to protect my people, even if that means working side by side with _you._ ”          

       


	10. Chapter 10

Napoleon turned into the private drive with a sign above it that translated as “Welcome to the Monaco Vineyards.”  As he drove along, he could see long rows of grapevines that started behind the house and stretched quite a distance, actually disappearing over a low hill.

The driveway circled around in front of the house and had a parking area in the middle.  He maneuvered the dark green Lamborghini he was driving into a spot easily, got out and took a good look at the house.  It was rather large; three stories and approximately half a city block long.  Not seeing any other structures close by, he assumed the house also contained a wine cellar and even a tasting room and store.  The roof was a burnt orange color and the walls were painted white and trimmed in dark brown.

The front door opened and Antonia stood there smiling.  “Antonio!” she called, “Come in!”

“Hello, Antonia,” he said as he reached for her hand and kissed it.  “I was just admiring your lovely home.”

“ _Grazie._ It was built by my great – great grandfather and then my great grandfather added on the retail store.”

Napoleon smiled appreciatively.  “It is truly magnificent.  I would love for you to show me around, unless you’re very hungry.”  He checked the Rolex on his wrist for the time.  “It is almost noon, after all.”

“I’m used to eating closer to one – thirty, so I’d be happy to give you a tour.  We actually do that for a few weeks in November.  Besides, my father and his business associate should be back soon.  They are on the far side of the property in the building inspecting the machinery where the wine is actually made.  I expect them back momentarily.  I’d like you to meet him.”

Napoleon grinned as he gave her a sideways glance.  “You’re not going to introduce me as someone special, like a fiancé or something?”

“You are so silly!” she giggled.  “Come, let’s start in the kitchen.”

When they got there, there were two women preparing food, one of whom he recognized as Antonia’s lunch companion from the restaurant.

“Mama!  What is Papa paying a cook for if you insist on coming in here to cook?” she exclaimed as she led Napoleon closer.  “Mama, this is Antonio Felice.  Antonio, may I present my mother, Gina Monaco.”

He stepped forward and took one of her hands in both of his.  “Signora Monaco, it is such a pleasure to meet you,” he said before raising her hand to his lips and kissing it.  He turned a dazzling smile her way and added, “I would not have believed this is your daughter.  You look like sisters!”

As he had hoped, the woman blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl.  “You are a dear boy to pay an older woman such a compliment!  Please, sit, sit.  Let’s have a cup of espresso!”

Napoleon glanced at Antonia to see if it was all right.  Antonia said, “We will sit down only if you join us and stop interfering with Maria!  I think she knows how to make pasta!”

“You’re just like your father,” her mother chided, but gently.  “Maria, please pour us espresso.”  She sat down in the chair Napoleon pulled out for her.  “Grazie.”

“You are most welcome,” he said as he pulled out another chair for Antonia before seating himself.  He saw a car crest the hill behind the house through the kitchen window.  “Is that your father coming?”  When the women turned to look, he discretely placed a listening device on the underside of the table.

“Yes.  I told you he’d be here soon.”

Napoleon sipped his espresso and engaged in small talk with Antonia and her mother.  It was by fortunate chance that his seat allowed him to pay attention to them while checking out Giancarlo and his associate as they emerged from the black sedan.  The man he assumed to be Antonia’s father looked to be about fifty – five years old, five feet nine inches tall, slender build with dark hair anchored by silver temples.  The other man was perhaps six feet two inches tall, heavier though not fat, with medium brown hair.  Napoleon guessed he was in his mid to late thirties. 

They disappeared from his view and he could hear a door open and close.

“Giancarlo!” Mrs. Monaco called, “Come into the kitchen and meet Antonia’s friend!”

Napoleon stood up as the men entered the kitchen.  “Papa, this is Antonio Felice.  I met him yesterday when Mama and I were at lunch.”

Napoleon extended his hand.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.  Your daughter noticed the wine I was drinking and told me your vineyards produce a superior version.  She consented to being my lunch companion today so she can introduce me to your product.”

Giancarlo shook Napoleon’s hand and then turned toward his companion.  “May I introduce my business partner, Ferdinand de la Hoya.”

De la Hoya looked less than pleased to meet him.  He barely shook hands before turning to Antonia and saying, “I assume _he_ is the reason you turned down my lunch invitation?”

“Among others,” Antonia replied before she took hold of Napoleon’s arm.  “If you’ll excuse us, I’m starting to get hungry and I promised Antonio a tour of the house.”  And with that, she used his arm to guide him out of the kitchen.

When they were out of earshot, Napoleon asked, “What was _that_ all about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She flipped her hair in annoyance.  “Ferdinand wants me and I don’t want him.  He’s a well-educated, wealthy pig.  I only tolerate him because the wine we produce for him saved us from going bankrupt.”

“Is that so?”  They were now in the house’s study.  Bookcases lined the walls, a beautifully brocaded rug covered the majority of the floor and all the seating was covered in richly textured fabrics.  There were portraits of several men on the walls and Antonia stopped them in front of the newest looking one.  She pointed at it.

“Yes.  Years ago this man, my father’s father, Dario Monaco, invested very poorly.  That combined with two years of blighted crops brought the vineyard to the point of ruin.  Sadly for the family, Grandfather was killed in an automobile accident almost five years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, I loved him very much.  My father took over the business and things began to turn around.  The best thing he did was enter into an agreement with Ferdinand; we are the exclusive wine supplier for his three upscale restaurants in Ibiza, Barcelona and Madrid, Spain.”

“That is impressive.  Have you visited any of his restaurants?”

“My father has; I don’t want Ferdinand to think I’m interested.  I am definitely not.”

Napoleon had moved closer to the painting, ostensibly to admire it, while in reality he was attaching a listening device to the back of the credenza in front of it.  “I have to admit, Antonia, I find it more than a bit surprising that an attractive young woman such as yourself doesn’t seem to have men pounding at the front door.  There must be someone you fancy, I mean, besides me.”

“My mother’s right,” she laughed even as her ears turned red from embarrassment, “You are certainly a charmer.  There is a young man, but Papa doesn’t approve of him.”

“I am sorry.  Forgive me for mentioning it.  It’s getting late; let’s finish our tour and head out to lunch, all right?”

She smiled and led the way to show him the rest of the house and he was able to secrete three more devices; one in Giancarlo’s office, one in the wine cellar and the last in the living room before they headed to his car for the trip into town.

She directed him to a small trattoria across the street from the San Remo Casino on the Corso degli Inglesi.  He pulled in front, walked around to the passenger’s side to let her out and they entered the building.

Paolo’s, as the place was named, was a cool, dimly lit restaurant and bar with tile floors and heavy wooden tables and chairs.  Ceiling fans slowly twirled above the tables and Napoleon could see that this was indeed a much younger crowd.  “Let’s sit here,” Napoleon suggested.  The table he indicated allowed a view of the room, the kitchen entrance, the restaurant’s entrance and the sidewalk while affording them some privacy behind a column.  He held out a chair for Antonia to sit.

“Thank you.”  When they had entered, she had waved at a few people she recognized, including a young man who looked like he wanted to approach, but didn’t.  “One of the reasons this place is popular is that once you’ve ordered your food, you are not rushed to finish it before _riposo._ The owners don’t seat anyone between the hours of two and four, so we can eat and drink at our leisure.”

A waiter arrived with water and menus and Napoleon allowed Antonia to order for them as she wanted to do the wine and food pairings.  She ordered an antipasti for two, a pasta dish and a dessert and a suitable wine from her family’s vineyard for each course.  As the waiter walked away she said, “Now you will see what good wine from this area tastes like.”

“I look forward to it.  Do you mind if I ask…That young man sitting at the bar.  He looked like he wanted to stop at our table.  Who is he?”

“He is the one I told you my father doesn’t approve of; his name is Giorgio Brunetti.”

“To look at him, he seems a fine young man.”  Noting the wistful way that Antonia was peeking at him caused him to add, “Call him over; I’d like to meet him.  He can join us if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she said.  Catching Giorgio’s eye, she waved him over to the table.  “Join us!  Giorgio Brunetti, I’d like you to meet Antonio Felice.”

The two men shook hands.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Antonio.  Have you moved here to San Remo?”

“No, no.  I live in France, just outside Nice.  It’s about a forty – minute drive from here.  I was thinking I might want to invest money in one of the vineyards if a deal can be made.”

Giorgio sat and quickly called the waiter to bring his lunch when theirs was ready.  “I thought I detected a bit of a French accent.  I don’t think you’ll have much luck in the way of investments.  My family’s vineyard is profitable and we intend for it to stay family – owned and Antonia’s father already has a partner who’s helped turn their business around.”  He glanced at Antonia before adding, “I had wanted to be the one to do that, but…”

Napoleon could almost feel the longing between the two and on impulse said, “Giorgio, I want to be clear about something: Antonia approached me about the wine I was drinking the other day and suggested I would much prefer her family’s version.  This is a friendly lunch, not a romantic one.  She told me you do not have her father’s permission to see her.”

Giorgio’s smile lit up his face.  “Ah, so you are being, what do the Americans call it, a middleman?”

“I can’t help it.  I’m an Italian living in France; I eat, sleep and breathe romance.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Napoleon learned a few things during his lunch with Giorgio and Antonia.  One, they were truly smitten with each other and would be together if not for her father’s disapproval; two, Giorgio was a good man with a head for business who, Napoleon thought, would be more than capable of running both vineyards with Antonia if they ever married and three, Giancarlo’s approval of Antonia dating Giorgio disappeared as soon as de la Hoya had appeared years ago.

Giorgio checked the time and said, “I really must be going.  This has been the most enjoyable lunch I’ve had in a very long time.”  He stood and extended his hand to Napoleon.  “Antonio, it was good to meet you.  We must get together again, eh?  Antonia,” he said as he bent to kiss her forehead, “We’ll talk soon.  Ciao.” 

They watched him leave.  When he was gone, Napoleon said, “We should be going, too.  If we’re here much longer, we can order dinner!”  He stood and helped her from her chair.

She smiled and teased, “You are so silly!” but he could see that she was being polite.  Her mind was no doubt on the young man who had left.  Still, her manners dictated that she stay focused on the person she accompanied. 

They were driving for about five minutes when Napoleon broached the subject of Giorgio Brunetti again.  “Giorgio seems so pleasant and intelligent, why doesn’t your father care for him?  He seems like son – in – law material.”

“I don’t really know.  He used to like Giorgio.  I thought when Ferdinand first began flirting with me, it was with my father’s blessing.  I confronted him about it and he seemed genuinely horrified that de la Hoya showed an interest in me.  Mama told me they even had an argument about it and Papa told her that if I wanted to see Ferdinand, he would not stop me, but he would not encourage me.  And so far, he has not though I think Ferdinand wants my father to plead his case.”

“Are you in love with Giorgio?”

The young woman blushed and looked away.  “What does it matter if I am or am not?  My father said we cannot be together and I cannot go against him.”

They arrived back at the Monaco Vineyards and he stopped the car in front of the house and ran around it to let her out.  “I had a great time, Antonia, and if you don’t mind, I would love to take you out to lunch or dinner again soon.  As friends.  And perhaps, Giorgio might like to join us, too.”

“I would like that very much.”  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed both his cheeks. 

“Wonderful!  I’ll call Thursday or Friday, all right?”

“Thank you, Antonio.  Ciao!”  She practically bounced into the house in her excitement.

Napoleon got back in his car and drove to a wooded area about a half mile away.  He backed the car in between the trees until he could go no farther and then carefully placed leafy branches around the front to hide the windshield and headlights and hood.  Standing back to check his handiwork, he concluded that, though not perfect, if one wasn’t looking for the car, it wouldn’t be seen.  If someone did happen to notice it, he’d have no explanation why he hid it, but he figured he would cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

Opening the trunk, he grabbed the headphone and placed it on his head.  Before he had left Nice, he had placed a reel to reel tape recorder and Research and Development’s newest toy, a long range surveillance receiver, in there.  While Antonia, Giorgio and he were having lunch, the receiver had been pointed toward the Monaco vineyards monitoring the bugs he had planted and allowing the reel to reel to record conversations.  _At least, I hope that’s what it’s been doing.  Sometimes field testing new equipment isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,_ he thought as he lifted the device from the trunk. 

It kind of looked like a large caliber handgun with an outward facing cone attached to the muzzle with what looked like a microphone coming out of it.  He checked and saw that the reel to reel, which was voice – activated, had indeed been recording.  He quickly flipped the reels over and pointed the receiver in the direction of the house.  _I’ll listen to whatever’s on there when I get back to Nice._ He turned the dial on the device to listen to each bug.

The one in the kitchen yielded a conversation between Antonia and her mother that made him smile.  She was fussing with her mother to leave the cook alone.  _Apparently, that’s an ongoing argument._   Only silence greeted him when he switched over to Giancarlo’s office and then, the living room.  When he could hear nothing from the wine cellar he thought, _They might have left the house._

He fully expected silence from the study, but was pleasantly surprised to hear two male voices that he recognized as Giancarlo and Ferdinand.  Ferdinand’s voice remained at a steady volume and Napoleon assumed he was sitting in the chair closest to the credenza while Giancarlo’s voice rose and fell as if he were pacing past the listening device.

“Giancarlo, you need to calm down.  It’s not the end of the world; you’ll still be making a very tidy profit.  What’s the problem?”  Ferdinand’s voice sounded so stereotypically villainous, Napoleon could picture him twirling his moustache in cartoonish glee.

“The problem is,” Giancarlo shouted before stopping and taking a deep breath.  Napoleon could hear footfalls and the distinct _snick_ of a closing door.  “The problem is,” Giancarlo repeated in a calmer, but still angry voice, “that I have received a generous offer from a man who owns four restaurants in Genoa who wants me to improve and provision their wine lists.  It is an incredible opportunity and would allow me to be a legitimate business again!”

“Ah, but then, how would I launder my money?  Taking that swill you call wine off your hands for an inflated price keeps me from having to explain where my money comes from.  The overage I pay you, once you give it back to me, goes to fund some research I’m interested in over in America.  It’s at a very critical juncture; I simply can’t stop sending money now.  You understand.”

“No, I don’t!  Surely, you can find some other way!”

“Listen to me, Monaco,” de la Hoya growled, all pretense of civility gone, “I went to a lot of trouble to get this place back in the black!  Your father was running this place into the ground, but had no interest in doing business with me.  You remember that last meeting the three of us had?  You wanted to take my deal, but he didn’t.”

“Yes, I do and two weeks later, he was killed in the car…”   Giancarlo’s voice faded and Napoleon imagined the man was adding two plus two.  “It was you!” Giancarlo accused.  “You killed my father to get him out of your way because you _knew_ I would take the deal!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.  Dario’s death was an unfortunate ‘fortunate’ accident that afforded you the chance to save Monaco Vineyards.  It was drowning in debt and I threw you a life preserver.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to continue helping you!  I’m through!  I’m taking the Genoa deal and forgetting I ever met you!”  Giancarlo gasped.  “Are you going to shoot me?”

“Not at all,” Ferdinand replied, oily tones restored to his voice.  “If you refuse to work with me anymore, I’ll just have to shoot your wife and your daughter.  I never liked your wife, I wouldn’t mind killing her, but Antonia…that would hurt.  I want her.  Maybe I’ll have my way with her and _then_ kill her.”

“Please, please, don’t hurt them!  I’ll keep helping you!  I won’t take the other deal!  I promise!”

“I knew you’d see things my way.  I’ll see you later.  I hope we don’t have to have this chat again, Giancarlo, that would really make me angry.”

Napoleon heard more footsteps and then the door opening.  He surmised that de la Hoya was leaving the premises and would probably be heading toward San Remo.  _Except he won’t make it.  Not if I have anything to do with it._

    


	12. Chapter 12

Napoleon hurriedly put away his listening equipment, dragged his camouflage of branches off the car and jumped into the driver’s seat.  He calculated that if de la Hoya were heading into San Remo, he would be passing by in less than two minutes’ time.  _I’ll only have a few moments to catch him before we reach the edge of town._   He checked his weapon to make sure it was turned to bullets and then started the car.  _If he doesn’t come this way, I’ll confront Monaco to get him to tell me where this guy is staying._

He heard a vehicle seconds before de la Hoya’s car passed by.  He sprang into action immediately, slamming his foot on the gas and steering the Lamborghini onto the road to intercept the THRUSH operative.

De la Hoya saw the car emerge from the woods and hit the gas, but his Oldsmobile was no match for the sleek racer.  He pulled his gun and began firing wildly behind him causing Napoleon to fall back.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Napoleon stopped the car, placed his left arm on the door, put his right arm on top of it, aimed for the rear tires of the fleeing car and fired.  He smirked in satisfaction as both tires blew and the car veered off the road and down into a ditch.  He slammed the car into gear and drove until he was about ten yards away from where the vehicle left the road.

Weapon in hand, he approached slowly, staying in the driver’s blind spot as much as possible.  He snatched the door open to find de la Hoya slumped over the steering wheel, panting in pain.  A cut on his forehead indicated where it had hit the windshield.  “I know you!  Why,” he groaned in agony, “Why did you do this?  Did Giancarlo put you up to this?”

“And I know you, Ferdinand de la Hoya!  You’re THRUSH!  And your money laundering days are over!  Get out of the car!”

The man tried to lean back in his seat and screamed in pain.  “Arrrrrgh!  I can’t!  My ribs!  I think some of them are broken!  If you want me to get out, you’ll have to help me.”

“Hold still,” Napoleon commanded as he stepped closer.  He patted the man down until he felt the outline of de la Hoya’s gun.  Reaching inside the man’s jacket pocket, he extracted the weapon and tucked it in his waistband at the small of his back.  “Give me your hand.”

De la Hoya took the extended hand and yanked hard enough to throw Napoleon forward and off – balance into his right fist which caused Napoleon’s own gun to go flying out of his hand.  “I may have been exaggerating my pain just a smidge,” he gloated as he followed the punch with a roundhouse kick to Napoleon’s side.

Napoleon recovered quickly and began fighting furiously, trading blows and kicks before putting enough distance between the two of them to pull de la Hoya’s gun and point it at him.  “I’ve always appreciated a late afternoon dance, but I’m used to prettier partners.  Put your hands up!  Now!”

“Of course, Mr. Felice, if that’s even your real name.  Since you know I’m THRUSH, I’m assuming you are an UNCLE agent.  Am I right?”

“You are.  I’m taking you in for interrogation.  Put your hands on top of your head.”

De la Hoya complied.  “You UNCLE agents!” he sneered.  “Always taking prisoners!  That’s why you’ll never defeat THRUSH, you’re all too soft to do what needs to be done!”  Suddenly, his right arm dipped behind his head and came up with a wicked looking stiletto that he immediately let fly in Napoleon’s direction.

Napoleon simultaneously leaned back and fired, striking de la Hoya squarely in the heart as the knife whizzed by his head.  Walking over to where the body lay, he noted that the open eyes looked shocked.  _I guess we’re not as soft as you thought._      

By the time he had notified the authorities, and answered all their questions, it was almost eleven at night.  He decided to head back to France for the night.  His suit was ruined, he was bruised, battered and bloodied from the fight and would have probably frightened Antonia and her mother if they saw him.  _No,_ he thought, _I’m going to take advantage of Antonio’s good fortune and have a decent meal, soak in a hot tub, swallow a few aspirin and go to bed._

Later, his body refreshed by a bath and sated by a fine meal, he picked up the phone and dialed the Monacos’ phone number.  As he had hoped, Giancarlo answered.  “Hello, Mr. Monaco, this is Antonio Felice.  I’m sorry to be calling you so late, but I need to speak with you privately tomorrow about your relationship with Ferdinand de la Hoya.  It’s urgent.”

“Now see here, Felice, who do you think you are calling me at this hour about something that is none of your business?”

“I know you don’t know me, Sir, but trust me when I say this is very much my business and it would behoove you to allow me to come see you tomorrow, preferably while your wife and daughter aren’t home.”

The silence on the line stretched out for over a minute.  Finally, Giancarlo said, “All right.  Gina and Antonia are meeting friends for lunch in Allasio; they’re leaving at eleven – thirty.  Come by at noon and meet me around the side of the house so we can go into the wine cellar.  I don’t want Maria seeing us together.”

“Perfect.  See you tomorrow at noon.  Good night.”

The next day as requested, Napoleon arrived at the Monaco Vineyards at noon and drove around to the wine cellar entrance.  Giancarlo was standing there waiting for him.

“This better be good, Antonio,” he growled as he led the way into the cellar.  “I am expecting my business partner in an hour.”

“If you mean Ferdinand de la Hoya, forget about it.  He’s dead.”

Stunned, Giancarlo exclaimed, “What are you saying?  How do you know?”

“My name is not Antonio Felice.  My name is Napoleon Solo and I am an enforcement agent for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.  The UNCLE knew the criminal organization THRUSH was operating a money laundering scheme in this region and I was sent here to uncover and dismantle it.  I know you were laundering money for de la Hoya for years.  I intercepted him yesterday and was going to turn him in to my superiors for prosecution, but unfortunately for him, he forced me to kill him.”

Giancarlo paled visibly.  “Are you here to arrest me?” he whispered fearfully.

Instead of answering, Napoleon walked over to a row of barrels, reached underneath one and removed the listening device he had placed there while on tour with Antonia.  Holding it up for Giancarlo to see he said, “I placed a few of these around your house, including in your office.  I heard what you told de la Hoya about wanting to get out of your deal and going legitimate.  I also heard that he killed your father to clear the way for you to accept his deal.  I believe that you unwittingly got in over your head.  I think it would serve no purpose to have you prosecuted.  De la Hoya played you.”

“I wanted to kill him with my bare hands, but he pulled his gun on me.  When he threatened Gina and Antonia, I had no choice but to agree to stay his partner.  But now that he is gone,” he said as he ran his hand over his hair, “I’m free to take the deal in Genoa!  Mr.  Solo, I owe you everything.  How can I ever repay you?”

“You can’t.  However, I think there is something you can do for your daughter.”

“Antonia?  What?”

“She told me that you withdrew your approval of her budding relationship with Giorgio though she is very enamored of him.”

Giancarlo shook his head sadly.  “I had to; if they had gotten married, Giorgio would have wanted to help me in my business and he would have discovered what I was really doing and I couldn’t risk being discovered.”

“If you tell Antonia that you’ve changed your mind and you want them to see each other, I will consider it payment enough.  I believe she loves him, but she didn’t want to go against you.”

“She is a wonderful daughter,” he said as he wiped his eyes, “It killed me to make her unhappy.  Of course, I will give her my blessing to be with Giorgio.”

Napoleon smiled.  “Then my work here is done.  I need to retrieve my listening devices from your home and I’ll be on my way.”

“But Maria will see you and tell my wife and Antonia you were here!  What will I tell them?”

“I had told your daughter that I would take her and Giorgio out for a meal and would call in a few days to make arrangements.  Tell her I stopped by to tell her I was called away on business.  Once you tell her that you have ended your partnership with de la Hoya, are entering a new partnership with a Genovese restaurateur and most importantly, that you have changed your mind about her seeing Giorgio, she won’t care where I am.”

Two hours later, Napoleon was ensconced in the master bedroom of “his” home with a glass of fine brandy after having eaten a lovely seafood risotto prepared by the chef.  _I am so going to miss this place!_

Assembling his communicator, he said, “Open Channel D, overseas scramble, please.”

“Good evening, Mr. Solo,” Mr. Waverly came through loud and clear, “What do you have to report?”

“I discovered how the money was being funneled to Louisiana, Sir, and managed to plug the leak.  That entire operation is shut down.  Unfortunately, the bird in charge of the thing was not taken alive.”

“I see.  All right, Mr. Solo, good work.  I want you to get to Houma, Louisiana to assist Mr. Kuryakin.  He is very close to accomplishing his mission and your presence will hopefully speed up his progress.  You will fly UNCLE Air to New York and then commercial to New Orleans.  You can write up your report after you’ve assisted Mr. Kuryakin.  Waverly out.”

Napoleon sighed as he put his communicator away.  _When this is all over, I’m requesting a week’s vacation for me and my partner._


	13. Chapter 13

Illya and Angelique arrived back at the boarding house two minutes before the skies opened again.  She immediately went to her mother’s room to set up the dehumidifier while he went to the dining room in search of Toby. 

It was lunchtime and Toby was at a table alone.  He waved Illya over and pulled out a chair in invitation.  “So,” he said, “Were you able to speak with your editor?”

“I was.  He seemed pleased with what I gave him.  He wants me to call him after four o’clock.  Will that be possible?”

“Yeah, dammit.  Thunderstorms are gonna be in the area until around three AM, so we ain’t goin’ nowhere today.  We’ll be lucky to get out on the water by dawn tomorrow.  I’m goin’ to go see my wife, I’ll see you later, Nigel.”  Toby pushed his empty plate away and stood to leave.  He nodded to Angelique as he passed her.

She came and sat with Illya.  “How is your mother?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “She’s telling me she’s fine, but she’s not.  The dehumidifier should make a difference in her breathing, but she really needs solid medical care and she’s determined not to leave the bayou.”  She glanced at the blond.  “Thanks for letting me ride with you to get it for her.  Have you ordered yet?”  When he shook his head _no,_ she grabbed Toby’s plate, went into the kitchen and came back with two plates loaded down with fried chicken, corn on the cob and collard greens.   “Bon appetit,” she said as she put a plate in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said and began to eat. 

The two ate in silence for several minutes before Angelique said, “I saw Tommy as I was coming down the stairs and he said it’s going to rain all day and almost all night.”

Illya nodded.  “Toby told me the same thing.”

“So, do you still think Hebert is the reason the gators are going crazy around here?”

“I do.”

“Then tonight might be our best opportunity to stop him.”

“’ _Our_ best opportunity?’”

“I meant what I said earlier; if it’s him, he is endangering the lives and livelihoods of people I care about.  I can’t allow that to continue.”  She waited as she watched the UNCLE agent think about what she was proposing.  Leaning in closer she said, “No one was on the water today, I guarantee.  That means no one is working at Hebert’s tonight.  We could go in, look around and hopefully, find the source of whatever concoction he’s using to agitate the alligators.”

“You do realize that you are proposing that we work together?”

“Trust me, ‘Nigel,’ I don’t like it much either, but if you think about it, you need me.  You can’t go to Hebert’s with your high beams blazing and I know the swamp and the roads like the back of my hand.”

The thing was, Illya _did_ need her and he knew it.  Hebert’s building was so large, it would take him hours to search it alone and he didn’t have that kind of time, he wasn’t as knowledgeable about the roads and shortcuts and tonight was his only foreseeable chance to do it fairly well – rested.  He looked at the clock on the wall and said, “It’s one – thirty.  I won’t be able to find out the information I requested for another three hours.  You made good points.  I am going to my room to sleep.  If you are serious about helping me, I suggest you get some rest, too.”

Angelique nodded.  “I will, after I see to my mother.  I’m sure that everyone will take advantage of the fact that they’re home early because of the rain and go to sleep early.  If you decide to go, we can sneak out around eleven.  It will take us about an hour to get there in this weather.  We need to be back here no later than four to be certain we are not missed.  That leaves approximately three hours to search that workspace.”

“It is settled, then.  Meet me at the front door at ten – thirty.  If we awaken anyone, we will know it.  If we hear nothing, we can leave.”

Illya woke up at four – thirty and went into his bathroom to call Agent Jackson.  “Open Channel N.  Local relay scrambled, please.”

Moments later, Jackson’s drawl came through the communicator.  “Hey, I’ve got your results!  I’ve already apprised Mr. Waverly.  This is a very bad business, this sample you gave me.”

“What is in it?”

“Alligator testosterone.  A very high dose of it.  Any male gator exposed to it either by ingestion it or having it introduced into the water he swims in would go into heat.  This is not mating season for gators; the females aren’t interested so what you end up with is lots of sexually frustrated male gators taking their frustrations out on anything that moves, including each other.”

“That would explain the mutilated carcasses some of the hunters complained about and the unusually aggressive behaviors.”

“Precisely.  The only way to have that large a dose in what you gave me would be to manufacture it.  You’re looking for a lab close by the water.  It can’t be transported too far because my guy believes it would lose its viability.”

“Thank you, Agent Jackson; I have an idea where to look.  Please send me a copy of the analysis when you send Mr. Waverly’s.  Kuryakin out.”   He sat for a few moments and then called Mr. Waverly.  “Sir, I know you have received the report on the sample I have to Agent Jackson.  It is my plan to see if I can find the lab where the testosterone is manufactured tonight.”

“Good luck to you, Mr. Kuryakin.”

He laid back down for another hour and then went downstairs to the restaurant to eat.  It was almost six and it was the earliest he had eaten dinner since arriving in Houma.  When he entered, he saw that Angelique was right: All the hunters were in having dinner.  He saw an empty seat next to Toby and took that seat.  As usual, the food was served family style and Illya helped himself to the roasted gar, crawfish jambalaya, fried okra and fried green tomatoes.  Pouring himself a tall glass of sweet tea, he caught Angelique’s eye as she entered the room and nodded.

She nodded back in understanding and then spoke to the table.  “Hey, everyone.  I’m eating upstairs with my Mama.  I just came down to get our food.”

“How she doin’, Angel?” Tommy asked.

“Stubborn as hell, which I guess is a good sign.  I told her I would stay with her tomorrow and she said she’d kick my butt if I put you in a trick bag by not showing up.  So don’t worry; if the weather permits, I’m going out with you.”

Tommy relaxed visibly.  “I wouldn’t blame you if you stayed in, but it does make my life easier that you still goin’ with me.  I’m gettin’ in my bed early.  At least I can get more than four hours sleep tonight.”

Toby smiled and raised his tea glass.  “I know that’s right!  I went to visit my wife so I _really_ need to get some rest!”  He looked at Illya and winked.  “She was real glad to see me.”

Illya laughed and slapped Toby’s shoulder.  “It will be awhile before I see _my_ wife, so I am glad for you!”  Just then, Angelique came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with two plates and full glasses.  “Have a good night, Angel!” he called to her.

“Thanks, Nigel.  I’ll see you later.  ‘Night, everyone!”

The other men waved goodnight and went back to their dinner.  _I’m going to miss this food!,_ Illya thought as he reached for seconds.

Ten – thirty found the UNCLE agent and the former (he hoped) THRUSH at the front door dressed all in black.  The dining room had closed early to accommodate the fact that the hunters were in bed.  They listened intently, but couldn’t hear anyone stirring upstairs.  Stealthily, they headed outside to Illya’s car.  Rather than starting it right away, Angelique put the car in neutral and they pushed it farther away from the house so that it would not be heard when she started it.  When they were a distance from the house, Illya jumped in and she started the car, turned on the parking lights and drove.

Illya was impressed with the way Angelique stayed on the road despite the steady rain and her use of just the parking lights.  He didn’t speak to her so that she could concentrate and his reward was that they got to Hebert’s meat processing plant in fifty minutes.  She had cut the lights off the last tenth of a mile.

“So,” she said, “What is it we’re looking for?”

“I believe it is a lab of some sort that manufactures synthetic alligator testosterone.”

“Male gators with an excess of testosterone this time of year would be crazy.  This bastard endangers everyone on the bayou!” 

“I have to say, Angelique, that I never thought you could be this passionate about something other than THRUSH.”

“I was not always Angelique DeChien, Illya.  I grew up as Angel LeDoux here in the swamps.  I loved it here, but my mother was a religious nut when I was younger.  My father couldn’t take it.  He left us.  Mama did her best, teaching me what she knew, but I couldn’t take all the crazy religious rules she put on me, so when I got a chance to leave, I did.”

“I am sorry.”

“I don’t want your pity.  I am only telling you this in case you wondered why I’m here.  Mama was made to realize years ago that her attitude drove away the people she loved.  She changed.  That’s why I was able to come back.  And I’m glad because my people needs agents to help them now.  So let’s get going.”  They moved to the door which the Russian easily opened with his lock pick.  There were no lights on inside and they both had small flashlights.  “How do you want to do this?”

On the drive there, Illya had been thinking about possible places to look for a lab and had come up with one strong possibility.  “The barrels of blood in the far corner; no one goes over there unless they have to because of the smell.  That is the logical place to start looking.”

They walked to the far corner where the barrels were and began moving them to look around.  Angelique moved one and said, “Look!  There seems to be hinges here!” 

Illya produced a knife and was able to find the outline of a trap door.  They managed to open it with little difficulty to reveal stairs. 

Just then, the lights snapped on and Hebert’s voice came from behind them.  “Put your hands in the air and turn around!”  They complied and saw Hebert standing with four men, THRUSH rifles pointed at them.  “Nigel,” he said, “you’re really getting into your research for your story, aren’t you?”  He turned his attention to the blond’s companion.  “You look familiar, but I’m not sure why.  Who are you?”

Angelique didn’t answer. 

Hebert looked at one of the gunmen.  “Search them.”

The search yielded their weapons and Illya’s communicator.  When the henchman handed the items to Hebert, he looked and remarked, “Aha.  UNCLE agents.  We’re going to have fun finding out how much you know.”


	14. Chapter 14

Napoleon had flown into New Orleans on an early morning commercial flight, gotten his rental car and driven to Houma.  He was in no particular hurry as he knew from Mr. Waverly that Illya had taken to alligator hunting to solidify his cover as a London newspaper journalist.  He shuddered as he thought of what Illya had been going through for the past few weeks.  He was vaguely familiar with what the hunters had to do; the early rising, the long hours in heat and humidity and finally, dealing with the animals themselves.  _I feel for him, but better him than me!_

After he checked into the Houma Hospitality House, he had a leisurely brunch before setting out for the rooming house where he knew his partner was staying.  He parked his car alongside the others there and entered.  Seeing no one in the living room area, he walked toward the restaurant.  Even though he had eaten not two hours before, his mouth watered at the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen.  _I know one thing about this affair Illya must like!,_ he thought as he took a seat at a small table. 

There were two glum looking men sitting about ten feet away from him with coffee mugs in front of them.  They didn’t look like they would welcome conversation from a stranger, so Napoleon kept his greeting to himself.

A minute or two later, a tall thin man came out of the kitchen.  “How you doin’?  Sorry ‘bout the wait; I’ma little short staffed today.  You know what you want or do you wanna see a menu?”

“Hi.  I would like a cup of coffee, but I’m also here to catch up with my colleague, Nigel Bellamy.  I assume he’s out hunting; what time will he be back, you think?”

One of the men sitting at the table across from him sighed loudly and said, “That there is the sixty – four thousand dollar question.”  He came over and shook Napoleon’s hand.  “My name’s Toby Boudreaux and that there is Tommy Buford.  Nigel hunts with me and Angel, the rooming house owner’s daughter hunts with Tommy there.  Except this morning, they ain’t here.”

Napoleon felt a tingle of dread trickle down his spine.  “What do you mean exactly when you say they’re not here?  Where did they go?”

“I wish I could tell you.  They were here last night and gone this mornin’.  I don’t know if you know this about your friend, but that boy can put food away to be as little as he is.  When he wasn’t downstairs by four forty – five, I knocked on his door.  The bed was rumpled, but he wasn’t in it or the house.  Then we realized Angel wasn’t here, either.  It’s after noon and we ain’t heard a word from either of ‘em.  We can’t wait no more; we already lost a day because of the storms the other day.  We _gotta_ go out and check our lines.  Oh, I didn’t catch your name, Mister…”

“Solange.  Navarre Solange of the London Daily Mail.”

“That’s a Cajun name, Solange!  You think you got people round here?”

“I don’t think so.  Do me a favor please?  If you hear from Nigel, could you please tell him to call me at the Houma Hospitality House?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”  He tossed a couple of bills on the table to pay for his coffee and left.  He drove about half a mile before pulling over to assemble his communicator.  “Open Channel D, American relay scrambled.”

“Yes, Mr. Solo.  Have you met up with Mr. Kuryakin?”

“That’s the thing, Sir, Illya’s missing along with the daughter of the rooming house’s owner.  I have a feeling that this Francois Hebert is involved.”

“You may be right, Mr. Solo.  From what Mr. Kuryakin tells me, Hebert’s facility is occupied by workers until eleven PM.  I suggest you get some rest because if you have not heard from your partner by then, I expect you will be doing some reconnaissance there tonight.”

There really was nothing else he could do before Hebert’s processing plant closed for the night, so he headed back to the Hospitality House, obtained directions to Hebert’s place, sandwiches and sodas for later and went back to his room to study the transcripts of the verbal reports Illya had made to Mr. Waverly.  He was convinced Illya must have been taken prisoner by THRUSH.  He grinned to himself.  _If the situation was reversed and I was missing along with the daughter of my landlord, his first thought would be, “What is that blockhead up to with that girl?”  He’d jettison that idea immediately, but it would occur to him._ The grin disappeared as he thought, _I never worry about Illya getting distracted during a mission!  His eyes are always on the prize._ He settled down to rest.  _Methinks the prize might have gotten its eyes on him.  Hang on, Illya, I’ll be there soon._

Hours later, dressed all in black, Napoleon drove to Hebert’s.  He pulled up to the pump and while the gas jockey was filling his tank, he went inside the store attached to the processing plant and bought six bottles of water.  Going out the door, he noted that the gas station closed at nine and the store at nine – thirty. 

He paid for his gas and continued down the road until he was approximately two miles away.  He was looking for a secluded place to hide his car.  He finally found someplace off the road that looked viable.  He backed the car in and carefully began covering it with branches and leaves.  _I wonder if the Old Man would consider “The Covered Car Affair” as the mission name!_ he thought idly as he went about his task.  When he was satisfied the car was well hidden from view, he checked himself to make sure he had what was needed.

He had filled his black rucksack with insect repellant, water, duct tape, dry sandwiches, a flashlight, binoculars, plastic explosives, greasepaint, a knife and extra ammo clips.  Checking around the car one last time, he set off through the woods back towards Hebert’s.  It wasn’t quite full dark, but it was dark enough that he had to use his penlight to make it through the brush.  A part of him kept hoping that his communicator would chirp and Illya would be on the other end and he could give up this ridiculous traipse through the woods, but no such luck.

He was about fifty yards from Hebert’s when he heard a noise off to his left.  Pointing his flashlight in that direction, he saw two large pigs rooting through the brush.  He was turning to ignore them when he realized that one of them had a nasty looking set of tusks.  _Ah, crap!  Those are feral hogs!_ What he knew about them was that they were bad – tempered and dangerous.  He took a half – step back and snapped a twig.  The hogs raised their heads, saw him and charged.

He had no time to draw his weapon, but the Solo Luck saved him again.  He noticed a fallen tree wedged between two halves of a standing tree trunk.  He ran up the downed tree and scooted out of reach by climbing up the standing one.  The angry hogs circled the tree squealing their outrage.

“Sorry guys, but I’m not available to play with you,” he muttered more to himself than to them.  They eventually lost interest in him, but they went back to foraging for food in his general area.  “I sincerely hope you don’t hang around here _all_ night; there must be better dining options in these woods _somewhere._ ”

Since he had nothing else to do, he applied insect repellant to his neck and arms and then applied the greasepaint to his skin so that he blended into the dark.  When he looked through his binoculars, he was pleased that he could see the front of Hebert’s and he watched in amazement when a hunter arrived and began to have his catch of gators unloaded.  _These people are insane!_ he thought as the giant lizards were taken inside the building.

Watching the level of activity increase as more and more hunters brought their catch in, Napoleon surmised that if Illya were in there, he was being held in either a soundproof room or basement.  He continued to watch as first the gas station and then the store closed for the night. 

A man wearing a light – colored suit had come outside with the last hunter Napoleon saw pull up with gators and he assumed that was Hebert since he handed an envelope to the hunter and slapped him on the shoulder before turning around and re – entering the building. 

He knew he had at least two hours before he could go investigate the building, so he started to focus on his immediate problem: The hogs still foraging around his tree.  _I don’t have all night!_ He didn’t want to kill them, but he had no idea if the sleep darts would work on them.  Just as he made up his mind to put them down if they didn’t relocate, he saw headlights coming down the road.

A truck pulled into Hebert’s and the driver blew the horn several times.  He could see the door open, but whoever opened it stood inside out of his line of sight.  “Ca viens?” called a male voice.

“Francois, mon ami, it’s me, Cobie and my brother Junior!” the driver yelled.  “I just wanted to let you know we gonna be huntin’ in our woods ‘cross the road so don’t get spooked if you hear gunfire.  We got a coupla hogs messin’ round the property.”

“Good luck and I want some pig if y’all get lucky!”

Napoleon watched as the man made a U – turn and pulled to the side of the road.  Both men got out and two dogs jumped out of the cab and entered the woods baying and barking.

“ _Coo wee,_ Cobie, they got a scent already!  Grab your gun and let’s go!”

The hogs heard the dogs coming and took off at a fast clip deeper into the woods.  Napoleon watched as first the dogs and then the men ran past his perch in hot pursuit.  When he was comfortable that they were far enough away, he pressed the light on his watch to check the time.  _Ten forty – five, Hebert’s employees should be leaving soon._

Twenty minutes later, the door to the facility opened and people began streaming out on their way home.  One by one, all the cars that were parked along the side of the store pulled out until there was just one left, a new Lincoln Continental that Napoleon guessed belonged to Hebert himself.

Straining his ears, he couldn’t hear the men, dogs or hogs, so he climbed down the tree and moved swiftly to the tree line at the side of the road.  He checked both directions and not seeing or hearing oncoming traffic, ran across and around the store to the rear of the building.  There were a few windows overlooking the woods back there and Napoleon used his binoculars to look inside while staying outside the perimeter of light.  Just as he thought, there were no workers on the floor. 

 _But there is also no sign of Hebert._ He moved farther down making sure he was out of the light until he came to another window.  A softer light glowed from it and when he could look inside, he could see it was a desk lamp in an office.  _This must be his office and he’s not in there, either.  He must be wherever he’s keeping Illya._

He encountered a side door as he continued to make his way around the building, so he took a chance and picked the lock.  When that drew no attention from within, he drew his weapon and noiselessly slid inside.  He knew from reading Illya’s reports that the contaminated bait was set apart in a far corner of the building, so he decided to go there first.

Five gallons containers were stacked four high, but when he moved past them, he saw an open trapdoor on the floor with stairs leading down.  He could hear activity from below; voices that sounded like they were a distance from the bottom of the stairs.  As he squatted there trying to decide the best course of action, he heard a voice yell, “Sammy!  Start moving that bait upstairs!”  He was certain he recognized it as Hebert’s.

Moments later, Sammy came up the stairs carrying two containers.  He put them down just as Napoleon rendered him unconscious with a sharp karate chop to the back of his neck.  He dragged the man quickly in front of the containers so the body wouldn’t be seen by anyone coming up the stairs, moved the two containers next to the others and went back behind the trapdoor and waited.

“Sammy?  Sammy!  What the hell you doin’ up there?”  Hebert huffed in exasperation.  “Leroy, get up there and tell Sammy I don’t pay him to take cigarette breaks!  And take some bait upstairs!  I got people coming to buy some in the morning!”

Leroy met the same fate as Sammy.  Napoleon was pleased that Leroy had a sidearm that he relieved him of once he was unconscious.   Both were now duct taped with mouths taped shut out of sight of anyone coming up from the cellar.

“Leroy?  Sammy?   All right, something ain’t right ‘round here.  Whoever’s up there, you listen up:  I got two people down here you might be interested in, so whoever’s up there, bring your ass down here now before I kill my prisoners!”

Napoleon considered ignoring the demand, but decided it would put Illya in too much danger.  He assumed the second person Hebert referred to was the woman the men in the boarding house said was also missing.  He tucked Leroy’s gun in the small of his back and said loudly, “All right!  I’m coming down, don’t shoot!”  He had a few tricks up his sleeve; he hoped he would have an opportunity to use them. 

He walked slowly down the stairs holding his Walther between his thumb and forefinger.  When he got to the bottom, he was faced with a THRUSH goon pointing a scoped rifle at his chest and Hebert himself standing to the left of him.  Just behind the guard were Illya and a woman, tied to chairs by their wrists and ankles.  “Are you all right, Partner?” he asked.  At Illya’s nod, he looked at the woman next to him.  “Are you all right, Miss?” 

The woman, whose head was tilted forward causing her hair to obscure her face, raised her head to look at Napoleon.  It took a second for him to take in the brunette hair and makeup – free face and recognition rocked him to his core.  “ _Angelique?_ ”   

 


	15. Chapter 15

Hebert spun around to stare at his captive.  “Of course!  I _knew_ you looked familiar, girl!  Oh man, this is too good!  The Central Committee thinks you dead and stinkin’ and here you are a turncoat UNCLE agent!”

Napoleon said, “I don’t know anything about UNCLE; my name is Navaare Solange and that man there is my colleague, Nigel Bellamy.  He’s here to write a story about…”

“Put a sock in it, man!  I don’t wanna hear it!  Your colleague and that traitor were spying on my little operation.  I’m going to kill you and him and send Miss DeChien here wrapped up in a purty lil’ bow to THRUSH Central.”  He looked at his guard and pointed his chin at Napoleon.  “Billy, search him and tie him up.”

Hebert was unarmed Napoleon noted and he was hoping he would get a chance to take out the armed guard.  He was shoved roughly to his knees and Billy used the gun’s muzzle to run along Napoleon’s sides.  His mistake was reaching out to snatch the CEA’s rucksack off his back.  Napoleon quickly reached up to grab Billy’s arm and flipped him over his shoulder which caused him to land behind Angelique’s chair.

Immediately, she leaned her chair back, grabbed Billy by his shirt and dug her fingernails into his arm.*  He began to gasp and choke before collapsing motionless on the floor.

Napoleon pulled the gun from his back and pointed it at Hebert.  “Is anyone else here?”

When the man refused to answer Illya said, “There is one other goon, but he was sent to New Orleans and isn’t expected back until morning.”

“Untie them.  Now,” Napoleon ordered.

Once Angelique was free, she moved to Hebert and scratched him deeply with one fingernail before pushing him into her vacated chair.  Hebert was clearly frightened.  “I can’t move!” he wailed to her, “What did you _do_ to me?”

Napoleon opened his mouth, but Illya’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Don’t worry, _Cherie_ ,” she purred as she bent down to speak directly into his left ear, “If you answer our questions, your paralysis will be short – lived.”  Her voice hardened.  “If you refuse or lie…”  She held her left hand up in front of his face.  “I will scratch you with all five of my nails and you will die a quick, but agonizing death like Billy over there.”

“Please don’t kill me!  I’ll tell you anything you want!”  He flinched as her hand came closer.

Angelique patted his face gently and stood up.  “Ask your questions,” she said to the UNCLE agents.

Illya walked in front of him.  “What was the purpose of drugging the alligators with testosterone?”

“THRUSH Central liked my idea of making animals super aggressive.  Ultimately, they wanted to be able to turn domestic animals against their owners to terrify governments into meeting their demands.”

The Russian rolled his eyes.  “That is insane.”

“Central didn’t think so.  They funded my research and when I told them I was experimenting with the gators ‘round here and it was workin’ they got real excited.”

“But why the gators?” Angelique demanded to know.  “It’s gator season; somebody could get killed because of this madness!  Why now?”

Hebert looked at the floor silently, but when he saw her raising her hand he spewed out, “Central wanted a trial run because they want to use my formula in El Salvador.  I was pretty comfortable that I could use my formula to replicate any animal’s testosterone, introduce it to the males of the species and get the desired reaction.  Gators were the logical choice _because_ gator season was opening up!  I put the testosterone in the bait and the hunters introduced it into the wild and then told me if the gators were aggressive.”

Angelique backhanded him before Napoleon could pull her away.  “ _Couillon!**_ You betray your people, put them in danger and for what?  A little recognition from the fools in Central Committee?”  She shook herself loose from Napoleon’s grasp.  “Nigel, are you almost finished with your interrogation?”

“I need two more pieces of information.  Hebert, where are your notes regarding this formula?”

“In that file cabinet over there in the corner.”

Napoleon was reeling internally to not only be seeing his former lover, but also seeing her seemingly working alongside his partner, a man he knew she despised. _Or used to,_ he thought.  The Russian had signaled him earlier to be quiet and he had remained so.  Truth be told, the only questions he wanted answers to had nothing to do with the mission or the matter at hand. He went to the cabinet and retrieved the notebooks and folders inside and handed them to Illya, who perused them until he was satisfied.

“Is there any more contaminated bait besides what is down here and directly above us?”

“No.”

“You better not be lying to us, Hebert!” Angelique warned, “Gator season ends in two days and everyone’s going to be on the water.  Do you have any non – contaminated bait?”

“Just those buckets next to the work table there,” he answered.  “When is this stuff gonna wear off me?”

“Don’t worry about it!” she snarled at him.  She looked at Illya and Napoleon.  “A word please, Gentlemen?”  They moved out of Hebert’s earshot.  “I assume you will direct a clean – up team here to take care of things; I suggest they switch these buckets with the ones upstairs so no one buys the bad bait by mistake.  I don’t know what you want to do, Illya, but I _must_ get back to help Tommy hunt.   And what about the hunters who sell their gators here?  And the people who work here?  Taking Hebert out of the picture with no one to replace him will devastate all those people!”

Illya nodded.  “Napoleon will be here to give instructions about the bait.  I have an idea.  Napoleon, do you have your communicator?”  He took it from his partner and called Agent Jackson in New Orleans.  “Sorry to contact you so early in the morning, but this is rather urgent.  My associates and I were able to dismantle the THRUSH operation.”

“That’s great, Illya!  Do you want me to send a clean – up crew?”

“Yes, but more importantly, I need an alligator buyer to stand in for Hebert.  Do you have anyone?”

“Yes, but how are we going to pay people?  I don’t have that kind of money in this office!”

Illya said, “I will call you back shortly.  Please call your buyer and tell him to come here.  We will figure something out on this end.”

Napoleon said, “Hebert was receiving large sums of cash from Italy.  I dried up the source, but he must have cash here.”

Angelique went to Hebert and leaned down to stare into his face.  “Where do you keep your money?” 

“ _Embrasse moi tchew!_ ”***

“You should be so lucky.”  She placed two fingers on his cheek and dug in sharply.  “Do you feel the numbness?  Where do you keep your _money_?” she repeated.

He looked at the two men behind her as one buffed his nails on his shirt and the other appeared engrossed in a file, both obviously ignoring him.  His bravado disappeared because he _could_ feel his face numbing.  “My, my office safe upstairs.  Right 44, left 21, right 17.”

“I’ll check it out,” Napoleon said before bounding up the stairs.

Angelique gestured the Russian to her and they again moved out of Hebert’s earshot.  “I can’t allow him to live.”

“UNCLE will take him into custody and detain him.”

“For how long?  You can’t guarantee he’ll go to Tartarus!  To our knowledge, he hasn’t killed anyone.  He might be able to cut a deal with your superiors!  All he has to do is get word to the Central Committee that I’m alive and I will be running for the rest of my life; I will not live like that.  Illya, please, he needs to die.  Just like Angelique DeChien.”

The Russian knew she had a valid point and Francois Hebert was no Innocent by any stretch of the imagination and he himself had killed to tie up loose ends.  “Napoleon will have to approve.”

“Approve what?” the CEA asked as he came down the stairs carrying a large sack.  “I stopped counting at one hundred twenty – five thousand and there’s at least another hundred thousand in this thing.”

“Just a moment, Napoleon.”  Illya contacted Agent Jackson again.  “The money is not a problem.  Tell whoever you send it will be in the safe in the office and the combination is right 44, left 21, right 17.”

“Got it,” Jackson replied.  “The crew is on its way and the buyer will be there by seven.”

“Thank you.  I am leaving in a few minutes; Napoleon will be here to for oversight.  I appreciate your help.  Goodbye.”  He disassembled the device and handed it back to his partner.  “There is a chance that Hebert could inform THRUSH that Angelique is alive.  Angel does not want to take that chance.  The decision is yours, Napoleon.”

“I have to admit I was shocked to see you, Angelique or Angel if you prefer.  I also admit that I am in the dark as to what is really going on here between you and my partner.  I do know three things: you two really need to leave, I need to stay for the cleanup crew and I trust Illya.  So, Illya, if you think ending Hebert is a good thing, I will agree.”

Illya grabbed a few large envelopes and placed the notebooks and files in them.  “My car is east of here, about a quarter mile away.”

Napoleon used a paper towel to wipe away the greasepaint.  “I’ve got to find a bathroom to wash my face. My car is about a mile and a half west of here.  I’ll have someone from the crew drop me off and I’ll head back to the Hospitality House.”

Illya smiled.  “Good.  I too feel an obligation to help Toby finish out the season. Angel, meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course, _Cherie.  Merci.”_

“Wait!  Wait!  You can’t leave me with this gal!  She’s gonna kill me!  Please!”

“It cannot be helped,” Illya explained as he headed to the stairs, “If only you had not recognized her.  More importantly, if only you had not made her into an ally of mine, but now she is and I owe her.”

Napoleon just shrugged and followed his partner up the stairs.

Hebert watched as Angelique moved back in front of him.  “What if I tell you I’ll keep your secret?  I won’t tell THRUSH you’re alive, I promise!  Please!  What do you say?”

“I say, you endangered our people, our livelihoods and our way of life and for that I say: _Pic kee toi_ , Francois Hebert, _pic kee toi,_ ”**** she said before she used both hands to rake five long scratches down each arm.  The poison hit his system and paralyzed his breathing immediately.  His lifeless staring eyes watched as she took one last look around his lab.  “ _Au revoir._ ”

 

*In my tale “Predators and Prey,” it is revealed that Angelique has developed a neurotoxin she can add to her nail polish.  Depending on how many nails she uses, she can paralyze or kill.

**Stupid, idiot, or fool

***Kiss my a**

****fu*k you   


	16. Chapter 16

Illya and Angelique headed back to the rooming house, leaving Napoleon to instruct the cleanup crew and meet with the new buyer.

“We’ve been gone almost forty hours, we haven’t eaten or had much water,” Angelique observed as she checked her watch.  “I don’t know about you, but as far as captures go, this one wasn’t so bad.”

Illya laughed at that.  “I admit I have been in worse situations.  We should get back in time to get something to eat.  It makes no sense to change clothing or even shower since we will be on the water in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but what are we going to tell people when we get back?  I don’t think it’s a good idea to let people know about the THRUSH plot.”

“I agree.  We do not look or smell like we ran away for a romantic fling.  How about we just say we broke down or something?”

“I can’t think of anything better right now.  I just hope Toby and Tommy are not so enraged that we are _personae non gratae._ ”

They pulled up to the house just after four – thirty in the morning.  Illya parked and they walked through the front door and into the dining room.   All of the hunters were already there and staring at them like they had seen ghosts.  Toby broke the shocked silence. “Where in the hell y’all two been?”

Angelique answered, “I’m so sorry.  Nigel wanted to see some of the bayou at night and I drove us right into a ditch.  We didn’t have any way to get in contact with anyone, but we were finally able to flag someone down to pull us out.  Tommy, Toby, we’ll be ready to go as soon as we eat something.”

Tommy cleared his throat and said, “Don’t worry about it, Baby Girl.  I got somebody else to help me.  So did Toby, Nigel.  Um, Angel, I think you better sit down.  Al, bring some coffee out here for Angel and Nigel!”

Angelique could feel a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as she allowed Tommy to lead her to a chair.  She looked at Illya who had relieved Al of two mugs of coffee and given her one.  “What’s going on?  What’s wrong?”

The hunters looked at each other and then down at their plates.  Al came and sat next to her.  “Angel.  You know how humid it’s been.  Your mama…well…”

The color drained from her face.  “What happened to my mama?  Al, somebody, tell me, please!”

Al took both her hands in his.  “She passed, Angel.  She just couldn’t take the heat.  She must have had some kind of attack, couldn’t catch her breath…I’m so sorry, Angel, she’s gone.”

She snatched her hands back and looked around the room at the faces and saw the truth of what Al said in every one of them.  Only Illya’s face was unreadable as he stood next to the wall.  She inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly to center and calm herself.  “When?”

“Not sure, exactly.  She wasn’t down to help with breakfast, but I wasn’t worried because with the humidity being so bad and all, I just figured she wanted to stay under the fans in her room.  I went up there about eleven – forty to see how she was feelin’.  I knocked a coupla times and didn’t get no answer so I finally said ‘I’m comin’ in’, opened the door and there she was lyin’ on the bed.  Wasn’t nothin’ anyone could do.  Since I didn’t know where you were, I called Renaud’s Funeral Home to come get her.  I hope that was okay.”

Angelique patted Al’s hand.  “Yes.  Yes, that was fine.  Thank you.”  She looked up at the hunters and smiled sadly.  “I know you have to go soon.  Please don’t neglect your hunting on my account.  I’ll be fine.”

Toby walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.  “When my friend Ray Jay called and told me he already tagged out, I told him what happened here and that the only person who didn’t have to go out was Nigel.  He said he’d take his place so Nigel can stay and help you out.”  He looked Illya’s way.  “I hope you don’t mind, Nigel.  I know it’s asking a lot, but you two seem to get along and the only family Angel had was her Mama so…”

“It is all right,” Illya replied, “I will help Angel in any way she allows me.  I did not know Joey very long, but she was a fine and friendly woman and I will miss her.  I am genuinely sorry for your loss, Angel.”

She looked at him, profoundly moved by his statement of sympathy.  “Thank you.”

Toby cleared his throat.  “Sorry, Angel, but…”

“No, don’t be sorry, I know you all have to get going.  Go.  Go, I’ll be fine.  Nigel’s here and Al, too.  I’ll talk to you all later.”

The hunters left and Al went back into the kitchen.  “Angel,” Illya said, “you need to eat.  We both do.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

The Russian came over to the table and sat next to her.  “Angel, it does you no good to starve yourself,” he whispered.  “I got the distinct impression that as far as everyone is concerned, you have been placed in my care and I am expected to perform my duty.  I will tell Al to fix us food.”  He got up and went into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later he came through the door carrying a tray.  He put it down and placed a platter of bacon and scrambled eggs, two plates, a large bowl of grits, a plate of toast and a pot of coffee.  “Help yourself, Angel.”  He was pleased to see her take some of the eggs and take a bite.

They ate in silence.  Angel finished first.  “Enjoy your food.  I’m going to my mother’s room to find something suitable for her burial.”  

He nodded and continued to eat.  It was now after six.  He knew Napoleon was busy with the cleanup crew and the buyer and would report the mission’s outcome to Mr. Waverly.  He also knew Napoleon would not expect to hear from him until late tonight, so when he finished, he took his and Angelique’s plates into the kitchen and told Al he was going to sleep.

He headed upstairs toward his room, but then on impulse walked down to Joey’s room.  The door wasn’t closed completely and when he pushed it, it revealed Angelique sitting on her mother’s bed surrounded by dresses he assumed belonged to Joey.  “Angel?  Are you all right?”

“What do you care, Kuryakin?  The others are gone, you don’t have to pretend to care how I feel.”

He came into the room, moved some of the clothing aside and sat next to her.  “From the day we first met, there was no love lost between us, it is true.  When we were in the Mandarin Hotel in Boston and you asked Napoleon to disappear with you, I was thrilled that he said no.  I was convinced that I would have to kill you if you ever resurfaced.  But from the moment I met your mother on the road and she brought me here and I realized _you_ were here, I began to see you in a different light.  You are passionate about this way of life and the people who live it.  So yes, I do not have to _pretend_ to care about you; I _do_ care about you.”

She smiled despite her grief.  “You have a lot of explaining to do to Napoleon, he was shocked to see me, I’m sure.”  Her face clouded over again.  “I’m so glad I killed Hebert!” she blurted out.  “That piece of _merde*_ is the reason I wasn’t here for my mother!”  The tears she had been holding back began to fall. “My mother died alone, Illya.  _She died alone!_ ”  She collapsed in tears and Illya gathered her to him.

He rubbed her back and spoke comforting words to her in French while she sobbed out her heartbreak.  After a few moments, her sobs subsided into sniffles and she pulled back and wiped her nose and eyes with her hands.  “Thank you.  I know your mission is over and you’ll be leaving soon, but I would really like it if you attended my mother’s funeral.  She liked you a lot, Illya, a whole lot.  Lucky for you you were wearing that wedding band, otherwise, she would have been trying to get us together.  It will probably be tomorrow; the heat here keeps us from waiting too long.”

“I would be honored.”

 

*merde:  sh*t

 


	17. Chapter 17

Illya had gone to sleep after speaking to Angelique.  He woke up feeling better than he had in weeks.  _It is amazing what a good meal and a few hours of sleep can do,_ he thought as he stretched his arms over his head.  Glancing at the nightstand’s clock, he saw that it read three twelve.  _I had better get moving._

He showered, shaved and dressed and then headed downstairs.  He picked up the hall phone and called the Houma Hospitality House and asked to speak to Navaare Solange.  Minutes later, Napoleon was on the line.  “Hey, Nigel.  I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tonight.”

“I know.  Is there a place to buy sandwiches near you?”

“Yes, right next door.”

“Good.  Please buy me three catfish po’boys and two large sodas.  I’m on my way.  We need to talk.  Much has happened.”

“I figured that much when I saw Angelique.  See you soon.”

He walked into the dining room, nodded hello to the lunchtime stragglers and headed into the kitchen.  “Al, I have to go out for a while.  Could you keep an eye on Angel while I am gone?”

“Sure.  She’s not here, anyway.  She had to go to the funeral home, the church and the cemetery.  Oh, by the way, your buddy was here the other day looking for you.  Solange, I think.”

“Yes, that is who I am going to see.  I would have gone with Angel…”

“She said she was letting you sleep and this was something she needed to do alone.  You hungry?”

“No, thank you.  If Angel needs me, she can reach me at Houma Hospitality.”

“That dump,” Al muttered.  Louder he said, “You sure you don’t want me to fix you something?  The cook there isn’t that great.”

Illya had to laugh.  “That was one of the first things Joey said to me!  I have been spoiled eating your cooking, but not to worry; my associate is buying po – boys from next door.”

The Russian walked into the Hospitality House forty minutes later to find Napoleon sitting in the front room with bags of food and drinks on the coffee table.  “Hello, Navaare,” he said.

“Nigel!  There’s a picnic table out back under a weeping willow that’s a perfect place to eat.  Follow me.”  Napoleon led the way out the back door to the table under the tree, which was a good distance from the house, sat and distributed the food between them.  They each took a few bites and sips of their meal and finally, Napoleon said, “What the hell has been going on down here?”

Illya filled Napoleon in on his time in Houma, starting with his meeting Joey and the realization that Joey’s daughter Angel LeDeux was, in fact, Angelique DeChien and ending with how they came to be captives of Francois Hebert.

“So, let me get this straight: The first time I contacted you, Angelique was in the _room_ and you said nothing?  Even though you knew I had been wondering about her whereabouts?”

The Russian looked around the yard.  “If I had told you she was here, you would have been distracted from your mission.  That might have proved fatal.  She was adamant that you not know; she was certain you would make your way here to see her and that would have complicated her life.  She kept her word about not interfering with me and ultimately, she helped me, as it turned out, at great personal cost.”

Napoleon lowered his sandwich.  “’Great personal cost?’  What cost?”

“Her mother had been ill for some time with some type of breathing problem.  She died while we were held captive.  She is devastated.  She is taking care of the funeral arrangements as we speak.”

Napoleon sat back in stunned silence.  “That poor kid,” he said finally.  “I’ll go back to the house with you.”

“You cannot come back with me; Navaare Solange does not _know_ Angel and Nigel could not explain why you came to visit at such an inappropriate time.”

“You’re right, of course, Partner.  It’s just that…”

“I know.”  They sat in companionable quiet for a while, each lost in thought.  Illya took a long draw of his soda and stated, “Angel wants me to attend Joey’s service tomorrow.  I want to go pay my respects.”

“You should go.  It seems you’ve made an impression on the people here, Angelique notwithstanding.  It might seem odd if you weren’t there.”

“Indeed.  Tomorrow is the last day of alligator hunting season, so none of the hunters will be available.  Angel has no family left in town.  There will be very few people, I think.”

“When I gave my report to the Old Man this morning, I didn’t tell him that the ‘Innocent’ who took you to Hebert’s was Angelique.  I thought it would raise too many questions for you.”

“And possibly for you as well.  Thank you for leaving Angel out of it.”

Napoleon leaned back and stared at his partner.  “You know, that’s the fourth time you referred to her as Angel.”

“She _is_ Angel.  Angelique is the fake and it is that fake that I despise.  Angel LeDeux is a woman of her word who cares deeply for her community and its way of life.  I like Angel.”

Napoleon shook his head.  “I expect to turn around and see Rod Serling behind me!  I _must_ be in the Twilight Zone!  Angelique doesn’t want me around but invites you to her mother’s funeral?  You _like_ her now?  The former Angelique DeChien is now Angel LeDeux of the Louisiana Bayou and your _friend_?”

Illya smiled his true smile.  “I would not take it quite that far.  Joey told me once the only reason Angel was here was for her; that this was not her life anymore.  I am certain when all is said and done, she will leave Houma.  Remember, she is a very wealthy woman since she acquired Dragi Kosovo’s fortune.”

Napoleon checked his watch.  “You’re probably right.  Listen, Waverly is sending the UNCLE jet tomorrow to fetch us, probably because he needs us to go somewhere.”  He grabbed hold of the one remaining bag and pushed it across the table to the Russian.  “The cleanup crew located your gun and communicator.  Saved the organization some money.”

Illya spared a glance into the bag and put it on the bench next to him.  “Thank you.  So, am I to understand that we are keeping Angel’s name out of our reports?”

“Yes, it serves no purpose to include it.  The jet has to have wheels up no later than six – thirty tomorrow night.  Let me know if you’ll be able to make the flight.”

Illya returned to the rooming house just after seven.  He saw Joey’s car parked next to the house and knew Angel had returned.  He went up to his room and secured his weapon and communicator before heading to the dining room where he saw the former THRUSH operative sitting pensively drinking a cup of coffee.  He joined her at the table.  “How are you holding up, Angel?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she said as she looked around, “Illya.   I took care of all the arrangements.  The funeral mass will be tomorrow morning at ten at St. Lucy’s Catholic Church and the burial will follow immediately at Magnolia Cemetery.  You can attend, right?”

He nodded.  “Napoleon wanted to come and offer his condolences in person, but I told him there would be no way to explain his presence.  He is very sorry for your loss, Angel.”

“When are you leaving Houma?”

“Right after the funeral.  I want you to know that Napoleon and I agreed that we will not mention you in any of our reports.  Ultimately, your presence here neither harmed nor helped my mission.”

“Oh, really?  So, who _was_ that woman duct taped next to you in Hebert’s basement?”

“My landlady’s daughter Angel LeDeux.”  He patted her arm and stood.  “I’m going to my room to ‘work on my story.’  I intend to eat one last late dinner with Toby and the others when they return tonight.  Join us.”

Angel smiled at him.  “I’ll do that.”

Ten o’clock found Illya and Angel sitting with Toby, Tommy and the other hunters having dinner while they recounted their day.  “Nigel,” Toby crowed, “you missed it!  Man, it was like the gators were starvin’ and all they wanted to eat was my bait!  Ray Jay and me had to make six trips to the buyer!  Oh, and Hebert wasn’t there; he had some kind of family emergency and had to go up to Lafayette or at least, that’s what the guy he called in told me.  I didn’t care who paid me long as I got paid for my gators.  And I only have six tags to fill tomorrow and I’m done, baby!  All tagged out!”

“That is wonderful, Toby.  What about you, Tommy?”

“I got more tags left than Toby, but shouldn’t be a problem.  When I told my wife that Joey passed, she called that no – account cousin of hers that baled on me in the first place and told him he was takin’ Angel’s place for free.  I didn’t think he’d show up yesterday, but he did.  I guess he was tired of bein’ the family jerk.”

Angel took another bite of her fried gar and grinned.  “Are you really not going to pay him?”

“I _shouldn’t_ pay him a dime, but I will if for no other reason than him bein’ a jerk got you back out on the swamp, Baby Girl.  It was fun huntin’ with you.  With everything’s that’s happened, I just wanted you to know that.

Tears glistened in her eyes before she swiped at them with her hand.  “ _Merci, Cherie._   That’s a very kind thing to say.”

Tommy, obviously not used to receiving compliments, ducked his head down in awkward silence that dragged out until Toby said, “It’s getting late.  I’ma head up to bed.  Tommy, after I tag out, I’ma meet you at your buyer’s and you can give me some of your tags if you ain’t finished and I’ll help you.”

Everyone except Angel stood up and Illya shook the hands of Toby, Tommy, and Johnny.  “It was a pleasure meeting and working with you,” he said.  I learned so much from this experience.  My readers are going to be fascinated by my article and I will send a copy of it to you.  Take care of yourselves.”

“Bye, Nigel,” they said in unison.  Toby added, “If you ever get to missing gator huntin’ and Al’s food, you can always come back next year!”

Illya watched the men leave the dining room and then sat down next to Angel.  “I do not think I will ever miss alligator hunting, but I will certainly miss the food.”  He reached over and took her hand is his two newly callused from hunting ones.  “I am leaving directly from the cemetery.  I will be as close or as distant from you as you want me to be tomorrow.”

“Thank you.  Mama and I don’t have any family in Houma anymore and the guys will be finishing up the season.  Al will be there tomorrow, but he’s more Mama’s friend than mine so, as strange as it sounds, you are the closest thing to a friend I have here and I would appreciate it very much if you stay by my side.”

“Then that is what I will do.  I am going to my room.  I will meet you here for breakfast at eight.  Goodnight, Angel.”

“Goodnight, Illya.” 

   


	18. Chapter 18

Illya and Angel met for breakfast the next morning.  He was wearing the black suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie he had worn the night he arrived in Houma while she was dressed tastefully in a black skirt suit, black pillbox hat with netting and low – heeled black pumps. 

There were no limousines, so Illya drove his rental while Al followed in his car.  The funeral mass was sparsely attended, not because Joey was unpopular, but rather because it was the last day of gator season and the deadline was unforgiving.  What struck Illya were the flowers; it looked like everyone in town had sent bouquets.  Before the service had begun, he and Angel had read the accompanying cards attached.  Angel lifted the card from an arrangement of carnations, roses, and baby’s breath, read it and gasped.

Illya moved closer.  “Angel?  What is it?”

She handed him the card and he read aloud, “’ _Joey, I never stopped loving you, despite everything.  Maybe one day, our daughter will forgive me.  Love always, Andre.’_ This is from your father.”

“Yes.  I thought he was dead.  I have no idea how he heard about Mama or where he is.  I’m not sure I care, but it is nice that he sent flowers to the woman he abandoned.”

The Russian led her to her seat.  “Today is not the day to remember old grudges; we are burying your mother.  Keep that in mind.”

After the mass, Illya drove to Magnolia Cemetery and sat next to Angel during the brief graveside service.  He stayed behind with Angel while the few mourners left; Al had told them he would wait for her in his car.  Illya was holding a rose that he tossed on top of Joey’s coffin as it was lowered into the ground.

“Are you all right, Angel?”

“No, but I will be.  Illya, I will not forget your kindness.  Please tell Napoleon thank you for respecting my wishes and let him know that I really wanted to see him, but it was best not to do that.  I never thought I would ever say this, but I owe you, Illya Kuryakin.  For your kindness to my mother, your discretion, your support of my people and ultimately, your compassion.  Go home, Illya.  Good bye and thank you.”

The UNCLE jet got its wheels up at four in the afternoon with the CEA and his partner on board.  Napoleon poured a vodka for Illya and a scotch for himself.  “So,” he said as he handed the Russian his drink, “am I ever going to hear what happened today?”

Illya smiled as he sipped the fiery Stoli.  “Of course.  Just not now.”

_Five months later…_

Napoleon Solo and his partner Illya Kuryakin were sitting in their office drinking coffee and attempting to write up their latest mission report when someone knocked on the door and it slid open to reveal Glenna the receptionist.  “Hi, guys.  I was on my way to HR and decided to drop off this mail for you.  It’s been scanned by Security.”

“Thanks, Glenna!” Napoleon replied.  “How come I’ve never taken you out for lunch?”

“Because I’m too smart to fall for your come ons, that’s why,” she retorted playfully.  “See you later.”

While the CEA was flirting, Illya had been inspecting the envelopes.  “Napoleon, these letters are from Angel!”

“What?” he exclaimed as he grabbed the one Illya proffered to him.  Sure enough, the name on the return address was Sylvia Broadchurch, one of Angelique’s many aliases.  He ripped it opened and began to read silently.

_My Dearest Napoleon,_

_I am still so sorry that we could not spend time together in Houma, though I am forever grateful that you saved Illya and me from that pig Hebert.  I do not know if we will ever meet again, but please know how special you are to me.  Stay safe, Napoleon, and stay well._

_With much affection,_

_Angelique_

_PS: Your partner is not as bad as I once thought._

He looked up to comment to the Russian only to see him engrossed in his own letter.  When he saw Illya lift a page and continue reading he said, “Wait a minute; how long a letter did she _write_ you?  I barely got a paragraph!”

Illya held up his hand to forestall further comment.  After a few seconds, he finished and handed it to his partner.  “See for yourself.”

He began to read it aloud.

_Dear Illya,_

_Forgive me for taking so long to get in touch with you.  Much has happened since I last saw you.  As I’m sure you surmised, I am no longer in Houma.  Al owns the rooming house and the gator farm now.  Mama died without a will, but I told him she wanted him to have it.  As you can imagine, he is thrilled to finally own his own business.  Toby, Tommy, and Johnny were pleased as punch when the issue of the London Daily with your article about alligator hunting arrived and they had their names and pictures in the paper.  They showed it all over town!  My compliments to your Public Relations and Propaganda department; if I did not know better, I would think it was the real thing._

_I have reflected on my time in Houma, especially when you were there.  It was like seeing both of my worlds side by side.  The swamp and Cajun life are part of who I am as is The Game, but neither life fully represents who I am anymore.  I miss both worlds, but I don’t regret leaving them behind._

_You told me that you despised Angelique DeChien, but liked Angel LeDeux.  I found out that I like Angel, too and I want to spend time getting to know her.  She is an interesting person._

_I don’t know if I will ever see you again, but who knows?  Stranger things have happened.  Just know that if I do see you, I owe you a favor._

_Sincerely,_

_Angel LeDeux_

Napoleon whistled in amazement.  “Angelique owes you a favor?  _She owes you a favor?_ That is huge!  She owes me _nothing!_ What am I supposed to make of all this?”

Illya shrugged.  “I have come to realize that your former sometime bed partner is not as bad as I once thought.”

“Now I _know_ I’m in the Twilight Zone.”  


End file.
